Let Me Help You
by me38242
Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten “the talk”? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?
1. Prologue: We're Okay Now

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?_

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Prologue**: We're Okay Now

It's been about a year since Jeb left us.

We've pretty much gotten over it. I think.. it was right after he missed Nudge's birthday, that we decided that even if he were to come back, we wouldn't care.

He'd left and hadn't not bothered to come back. That's called betrayal.

Well, obviously it wasnt her real birthday—we dont know our real birthdays. But its the thought that counts, right? And the fact of the matter is that he didnt come back for it.

It's alright though. It's been a year. Thats an entire half of how long he'd spent with us.

So.. Life goes on. If there's one thing he'd taught us, it was that we need to survive.

And survival is an instinct; it runs through my blood, in the capillaries inside of my wings beneath my tawny feathers, it runs through in my very veins, no wait—arteries, right? Don't veins carry deoxygenated blood? .....Nevermind.

Anyway, the point is, we've gotten into our own routine around here. It's been a year. We're used to him not being here now. We're O.K. Definitely.

Totally. Mostly.

Sometimes.

Okay, so not so sometimes. I really do think we're okay though, generally. Angels young.. she's young enough to have that enviable ability to be able to get over things quick. And Gassy has a short attention span, he's easily-amused, he can forget why he was upset in the first place, pretty damn quickly. Nudge gets emotional and upset sometimes.. but that's what I'm here for.

I'm Max. The leader of my flock.

Why am I the leader? I dunno. Maybe it's cause I'm the oldest. Maybe it's cause Fang doesn't seem to show much interest in the department... Maybe it's just cause Iggy's blind.

Maybe just cause I can lead.

I've been taking care of these kids, cause its just me surviving. It's what I'm supposed to do. I'm the leader of my flock. Sometimes it gets hard.. but I've got Fang and Iggy. I've got my entire flock behind me to support me. It's them I'm doing all this for, because it's me I'm doing this for.. they are who I am. Without them, I wouldn't be able to survive. I don't have any identity other than them. Maximum Ride, I am a culmination of who Nudge, the Gasman, Angel, Fang, and Iggy are. They're who I live for.

So.. like I said.. we don't need Jeb. In fact, if he tries to come back, I might as well slam the door in his face! We dont need him! We're doing perfectly fine by ourselves.

...No.. as much as I'd like to believe I would, I know I wouldn't. A large, overwhelming part of me wishes he was here right now, to get Fang to laugh a little, to throw Angel and the Gasman up in the air, to hear the sound of their child squeals, to read Iggy some cookbooks and actually explain what the big words mean.

Its just.. sometimes. But it's been a year. We've settled into our own routine around here. The first few weeks.. Fang refused to talk. He holed himself up inside his room and wouldn't come out except in the middle of the night for food. That was hard.. to not have him there.. I was having enough trouble myself.

But then he came out.. It must've been after three weeks. But he's my right-hand man true to the word, he's my rock. I guess I never actually appreciated who he was to me until Jeb was gone. He might not have the most domineering attributes on earth, but thats not his job—its mine. Fang is there, making his moral decisions and I guess he's just as much of a leader of the flock as I am.

Maybe.. he's more of the leader than I am. Maybe we're co-leaders? (..I hope I don't have an identity crisis smack dab in the middle of this train of thought..). But if Fang is my rock, and the chairman of the flock (dude, I'm the CEO) then Iggy is the manager. He's the dude who keeps us alive.. literally. My cooking skills... _apparently _have something to be desired... but ANYWAY.. He's Chef Igneous (yes, as in the rock..); His name comes from the fact that he's a major pyro.. Trust the blind guy to be the one making the bombs while being the full-time gourmet chef.. Trust the blind guy to apprentice a freaking 7 year old in his whole BOMB-making pastime. Okay, so I guess he'd be a pretty irresponsible blind guy manager.. but touche`, cause he feeds us pretty damn well. Especially cause we probably need enough food in a day than you need in a week.

But.. Iggy.. he's the guy that helped most with Nudge and Gassy the most after Jeb left. He can connect with the younger kids in a way that Fang might not ever be able to.. and being the leader of the whole shindig, I'm the one that needs to play the Bad Cop most of the time

Now, if I let them stay up till 3 in the morning, eat crapola-loads of junk food, make BOMBS all the time (ahem, Iggy), and let them not brush their teeth or shower for 3 months, where would I be? They're my flock, and I'm responsible for them. Fang, irritatingly, doesn't listen to me much anymore (I'm sure he's got a whole superiority complex going on, being just 6 months younger), but he still listens sometimes, probably out of some type of respect... _some_ type of respect.

...You always get the feeling that when he does listen, he's radiating that vibe: "I'm doing this because you're telling me to. Not because I have to do it just 'cause you told me to. I'm doing you a favor. I don't have to do it. So 'ha' in your face, anyway." Like I said, sometimes it feels like he's secretly the leader of the flock, just cause he's capable of having such a large affect my decisions in everything.

Well, I guess thats what he's there for.

Iggy was there for the kids right after Jeb left.. and although Fang wasn't here the first few weeks.. I guess it was just cause he was just getting himself together.. cause when he came out, he was the one that was there for me and got me together. I tried hard those first three weeks.. but I wouldnt've been able to assume the role of leader of the flock if it hadn't been for Fang.. he's the one that got me to pull myself together, for real. To forget Jeb and run the flock. Even now, late at night, after having a hard day with the flock.. I can knock on his door and sit with him on the roof at the dead of night until morning. I can talk to him about anything and everything. He's my rock.

Getting over Jeb.. I guess it was like a Domino affect. But Fang was the one to push the first one over—me. He was the dude that had to pull himself together. That's what he does. He might be my rock, but most of the time it's like he keeps everything of his own inside of himself. He's the stone cold no-emotions guy. Something you wouldn't usually see in a normal 13 year old. But I guess we're not normal 13 year-olds. We're as normal as you can get, raised in cages for the first 10 years of your life. It was Jeb who had rescued us.. but then he left us.

But it's okay. We've got a routine now. We're O.K. Things are okay around here now. It's been a year. The first few months were hard. But things are normal around here now. We got a new "normal" around here, and it's been here for a while. So we're used to it.

I'm Maximum Ride. I'm the leader of my flock. I'm a fighter. I'll be the mom if I have to, I'll be the Bad-Cop, but I'll do anything to have this flock on our feet. We're fighters.


	2. Strange Behavior In the Morning : Arc I

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?_

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**Chapter Two**: Strange Behavior In the Morning

I yawned as I got up from my bed. Drowsily glancing at the mirror on the wall to my left, I caught sight of my messy straw-colored hair. It was like someone had haphazardly thrown a bird's nest onto my scalp. I yawned again, stretching, then throwing the blankets off of me. I padded down the hallway to wake up the members of my flock.

I watched into Gazzy and Iggy's room. I sighed when I got sight of Iggy's empty unmade bed. Opening up their blue curtains loudly to reveal a stream of shining morning sunlight right onto the bed adjacent to it, I received a pained groan from a tiny bundle of comforter that seemed to be curiously animate. I smiled, feeling quite awake. Lifting Iggy's covers and slamming them down onto his now neatly made bed, I walked over to the still, soundly bundled up Gasman. I promptly threw my torso onto his body, quickly unwrapping him clean of his blankets, much to his dismay.

He groaned, but still lay there, splayed on his bed messily, bare in his rocket pajamas, my arms over his torso. Grinning evilly, I lifted up his pajama shirt to expose his belly button. I blew up my cheeks with air, looking quite like a chipmunk hoarding away several mouthfuls of nuts, and then blew a loud spluttering raspberry into Gazzy's stomache—er abdomen?; tummy.

He burst in a fit of laughter hugging my head on impulse while trying to get me off of him.

"Okay, okay! I'm up, I'm up!!" the Gasman exclaimed laughing and squealing loudly.

"Well, great! Go wash up now and come down for breakfast. I smell bacon, don't you?"

"Whoo-hoo!!" he hooted. Man, that kid is full of energy. Speaking of his energy... suddenly a pungent smell filled the air.. the focal point? The GAS-man. Don't wonder why we call him that.

Wrinkling my nose in a nauseaus fit of disgust, I left shook my head, rolling my eyes, as I left his room.

I found myself standing in front of Fang's door. Haha, I know what you're thinking. I'm going to go into his and wake him up? Fat chance for that ever happening. He has not, in our entire lives, ever allowed me to see inside his room. Common belief among the flock members is that theres essentially nothing in there anyway (how typically Fang of him to guard nothing just for the sake of planting a burning curiosity into each of us). Jeebuz, I don't even know what color his walls are. Naturally, I'd expect them to be black, but having black walls is just too over-the-top.

Biting my lip, on a whim I thought I'd try and open his door. Hesitating for just a nano-second, I grabbed his doorknob and tur—ugh, how predictable for it to be locked.. Anyway, I rolled my eyes, (yet again. eye-rolling should totally be my signature), and quietly tapped his door once. I knew he'd hear me.

Iggy is generally always the first one up, at dawn, making breakfast, out of natural habit, but Fang's sort of unpredictable.

Some days he'll show up to breakfast with a tangled mess of hair, crusty eyes drooping and head nodding repeatedly, two hours late. Somedays he's up before me, and I'll find him setting the table for Iggy. Somedays he'll just march onto the bathroom line at the time I get the rest of the flock up.

This is what I mean by that I can't control him. Although I'd like to say we've got a routine going on, part of our routine is just adjusting to Fang. Fang will always be Fang... who is Fang... who does whatever he likes to. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't mean this in a bad way—he is still the Fang who would risk his life to let the rest of the flock survive. He is still the Fang, so emotionally-secure, that'll sit next to me in the dead of the night and listen to me sob, or rant, or scream. It's just that.. I can't force him to get out of bed when he doesnt feel like it. I rolled my eyes again, and moved onto the room next to his.

Walking quietly into Angel and Nudge's room. I went over to Nudge and gently shook her shoulder.

"Up and At'em honey, its a new day. I think Iggy's making bacon," Nudge got up slowly, hugging her stuffed rhinoceros. At the word bacon she jumped up excitedly and put her slippers on. She moved outside in a trance-like state to the Girl's bathroom. I moved over to Angel and rubbed her back.. Angel was my baby—yes, a mind-reading baby, but she was still my baby—I had raised her since her feathers were a infantile pale yellow, since her entire torso was the size of my right hand. "C'mon baby, gotta get washed up. Remember to brush well," I said to her. By the time I was leaving her room she was rubbing the crust out of her eyes and hugging her dolly. I turned around for a second to stare at her sitting on her bed cross-legged. After she was done rubbing her eyes, she looked up at me and said sweetly, "Good Morning Max," smiling, well, angelically. (Theres a _reason_ we have names like these guys, in case you haven't noticed yet).

I walked downstairs contentedly, hearing the sounds of the water flushing out of the tap of our bathroom sinks.

I sat on a stool in front of our kitchen counter.

"Whatsup Iggers? Whats on for the grub this morning?"

"'morning Max. We've got some bacon, eggs, toast, and orange juice. I was debating whether or not to get the cereal out, but man thats some high fructose corn syrup and aspartame." Iggy replied pleasantly, his mouth and cheeks grinning cheekily, but his blind eyes expressionless.

"Ugh.. GASMAN, HAVE YOU BEEN READING IGGY THE LABELS AGAIN?!?!" I screamed up the stairs as Nudge came down and immediately began talking. Angel followed shortly after her, dressed, but no sign of Gassy.

30 minutes later...

"..so like yeah, the poodle was like all pink and stuff, and dont get me wrong I LOVE pink but this was like so not her color, oh Like oh my god, where's Gassy? Maybe he fell back to sleep, I totally wanted to go back to sleep like 30 minutes ago, but then I felt hungry, so like I would never ever be able to go back to sleep hungry, I totally don't get how people do that. Oh my god, Iggy, this stuff is great, I totally want to cook so I can make food for myself whenever I want, but like I don't really want to, cause then I'd to have to like, you know, make it myself. Anyway, I'm like almost done, and Gazzy isn't here yet. He better get up, cause he said he'd play lacrosse with me today. Aren't those stick thingies really funny? I have to beat him though, like seriously. Oh my god, I found this magazine on the edge of the cliff yesterday, and it had this lady wearing the most gorgeous dress, like EVER, it was some selibreeeti magazine i think. I couldn't really read it, but I totally want a dress like that. I wish I was taller though. You know who'se really tall? This guy that I heard is like the best in lacrosse. His wife is like a supermodel too. I wonder if they feel really dumb when they walk like that, cause like, I would. But I really would love to wear those clothes, so like I'd totally like, do it anyway.."

Eh, thats the Nudge Channel: All Nudge, All the time. That girl definitely has the gift of gab.

Leaving my fork and knife neatly on my place setting on the kitchen counter, I went up to see what Gassy was up to while Nudge and Angel engaged in some type of guessing game—what could be so important that he'd skip FOOD?! This seemed serious.

I walked upstairs calmly, and entered his room, preparing to let out an insane scream to get him up.

"GAZZY!!" I bellowed from his doorframe. He jolted up immediately.

"I'm up, I'm up!!" He said fiercly, curiously exactly like how he had said it an hour ago, rubbing his eyes.

"Ohh, just like how you were up an hour ago?" I asked him skeptically, one hand on my hip.

"Naw, I really did go to the bathroom to wash up, but someone was in there, so I waited outside of the door for a really long time, and then I started to get tired so I came back in," Gazzy advocated earnestly.

"Well, then, it couldnt've been Iggy, since he was making breakfast. If it was Fang, he should be out by now. C'mon, hop to it, sport." I herded him out of his bed, and steered him, hands on his shoulders to the boys' bathroom. He groggily turned the doorknob.. Well, he _almost_ turned it. It was locked.

That irritated me. Maybe someone accidentally left it locked from the inside. I let go of Gazzy's shoulders and frowned. I knocked on the door vapidly, and to my startling surprise, I heard a deep voice come from within: "s'Occupied."

"Fang?" I asked, confused. "How long have you been in there? Are you sick or something?" I asked him.

Of course not. We're genetically altered Avian-American hybrids. We don't get sick. That's like, a fact. As true as the wings on our back. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"What're you doing in there? Gazzy's gotta brush." There wasn't any response.

"Just use the Girl's bathroom, Gasman," I told the Gasman.

"Awwww, but why?! It's all pink and stuff!!" he protested.

"Suck it up soldier, go brush, your bacon is gonna get cold," I said, emphasizing the word bacon.

"Bacon?!" His eyes lit up as if it were Christmas time, and he had gotten the best present ever. These kids and their food, a relationship you'll never be able to understand if you're not a flock member.

He swiveled around and marched into the pink bathroom across the narrow hallway from the boys'. I stared at the door Fang was inside of for a second more, and then went back downstairs. Figuring out Fang isn't an easy task, and it's not exactly advised either.


	3. Fang

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?_

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Chapter Three**: Fang

Nibbling on a piece of toast downstairs, I began to go through a checklist of things we had to get done. On this list were many various things, including but not limited to fixing the hole in the attic that Iggy and Gazzy had blown through last weekend during one of their prototype tests, doing the laundry, cleaning up the crayon scribbles on Nudge's wall that Gazzy had done when they'd fought, teach Angel how to do a side-swerve... I sighed. I'd better get started soon. Gazzy and Nudge were out playing a game of tag on the cliffs, neglecting their chores with trained expertise while Angel was drawing something, uh, abstract, I suppose. Iggy was mumbling to himself and messing around with a toaster. I groaned. That last observation required immediate attention. That pyro bird kid was probably coming up with the blueprints for a project for him and Gazzy to do in the middle of the night.

Note to self: change rooming situations. Those two simply breed off of one another. I distractedly wondered what Angel would be like if she were the one rooming with Iggy instead of Gazzy. Yeah, thats all I need—a mind-reading pyro instead of a farting one. That would've left Nudge with Gazzy. The only outcome of that pair.. two bickering practical jokers with a love-hate business relationship.

If I were a hispanic woman with big hairspray hair, I'd be saying "ay-ay-ay" right about... now.

Interrupting my train of thought was Fang. He walked into the kitchen.. about 3 ½ hours late for breakfast with dripping wet hair and a long baggy shirt that went halfway to his knees. Are those his pajamas, I wondered? Last time I had seen his sleepwear, we were 9 or 10 and they were dark navy flannels Jeb had bought for each of us. Obviously he'd grown out of that.. he'd also grown into keeping his door locked, as I had figured out this morning.

"Good Morning !!" I said brightly, hoping to piss him off just a little bit. To my surprise he just kept his sopping head down and sat at the counter on a seat miles away from mine, completely ignoring me. I wonder what got up his arse and bit him.

"..Hey.. yo.. are you alright?" I asked, slightly concerned. His shoulders were mad tense. Fang was the only member of the flock who took showers in the morning.. in fact, probably the only member sans myself who would take one willingly. (Of course, that wasn't always the case. I can clearly remember him kicking and screaming—literally—when Jeb had first brought us here and introduced us to a washroom). But Fang probably only does it to keep me from nagging at him anyway.

In any case, when he showers, he does it at 4 in the morning.. never at 11. Something seemed really off about him today. Even Iggy noticed. He completely ignored me, again.

"Hey man.. are you alright? Whats wrong with you?" Iggy asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Nuthin. I'm fine." Fang finally replied.

"AH, he speaks!" Iggy brightened up considerably and went back to tinkering with the lightbulb in the oven with the toaster in his other hand.. One could only wonder what he's coming up with in that diabolical mind of his..

Fang looked up at me from all the way across the table, his eyes clearly open through his long dark sopping wet bangs.

"Sorry," he said to me, in a second between stuffing himself with bacon, eggs, and toast.

Still skeptical, I tilted my head to observe him in a different angle.

"Sure," I said slowly, yet good-naturedly.

I waited for two slow minutes to go by and he gulfed down all the food on the table, and then slowly stepped down from the kitchen stool I was sitting at and walked across the entire counter, to a seat closer to Fang.

"We gotta teach Angel how to do that side-swerve today," I said, my head sitting on my propped palm.

It was a slow, sunny day out.. One of those days where you just don't feel like getting up and getting stuff done. I was prolonging the inevitable list of chores to do as best as I could, but I knew I'd have to do this shit in the end anyway. I sighed.

"Yeah." Fang replied. You gotta applaud him for his awesome ability at giving one-word answers.

He sucked BBQ sauce off of his thumb casually. (Yeah, we've got weird taste preferences, in comparison to you, maybe).

"So you wanna do it this afternoon?" I asked him. Fang was the technical flight expert, not me. I might be faster, but hes definitely more suave. What I lack in technicality, I make up for in speed. But the truth is, if I didn't have that speed factor, I'd be more like a waddling duck. Fangs got this incredible talent of flying so smoothly and perfectly—he can control these feathers on his wings that'll give him the slightest elevation or pressure, that I can't even get to budge on mine. I guess it helps that his wings are ginormous too. We think he's got raven DNA.

It's sort of irritating to be honest. When Jeb left, a year ago, I was taller than him by half an inch. Just one year and he's already 3 inches past me. But thats just Fang. Iggy's going nearly at 4.

Fang looked up at me quietly.

"Can't you do it? You're good enough." he asked me. I was nonplussed. I definitely am not the right person to be teaching our fledglings how to make the right turns. I still quiver a bit after making a really sharp one.

I looked at him strangely. What was up with him today? He caught the look I was giving him and turned away from me, looking straight ahead of him.

"I.. just don't feel like it today. I'll teach Angel then... uh, next week. Is that cool?" He asked, still staring straight ahead.

Still confused, I nodded. He looked at me from the corner of his right eye, and then turned back.

"Yo Ig, can I get some ice here?" He said to the blind boy, who had his head and entire upper body inside the oven.

Ig popped out, his face, white t-shirt, and light blonde hair covered with soot-like substance. It was sort of creepy looking to be honest, the whites of his eyes standing out starkly against the.. well.. black-everything that he was.

Iggy popped open the fridge and slid the ice cube tray down the counter to Fang. I watched Fang slam the tray down and pick up the free ice cubes. He stuck them down the neck of his superlatively large t-shirt. He let out a quiet sigh. I was seriously getting worried.

"Fang.. you sure you're alright? It's not that hot out, and you're still dripping wet," I said to him.

"I'm, fine." he said stiffly. There wasn't room for argument.

I shrugged and went downstairs to do the laundry. You can't fight with Fang too long. It's Fang.

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Dragging up the laundry baskets from the basement, I decided to go check up on the flock. Nudge was braiding Angel's hair and they were singing some godforsaken song they were making up.. well, at least they were happy? Gazzy and Iggy were whispering conspiratorially on the staircase.. they scattered once they caught sight of me. What to do with them...

I went out to the backyard, and found Fang laying down on the grass staring up at the bright blue sky. Not a cloud in sight. Putting the laundry basket down next to me, I sat down next to him, wrapping my arms around my knees. I looked up.

"It's been a year, Fang.." I said calmly.

"Yeah.." he responded, thoughtfully.

"Are we doing okay? I keep thinking I can't mess up.. I just can't. I need to raise them right. I need to." I said quietly, stuffing my head into my knees.

"You won't mess up. And you're not alone. Maximum Ride." Just hearing his dense voice say my name, solid as stone, gave me courage.

"Thanks, Fang." I said, turning to look down at him. His eyes were closed. His sopping wet hair had dried in the streaming sunlight. He grunted in acknowledgment. I laughed at his typically Fang-like response, secretly relieved that he was being normal again. I guess this morning was just me overreacting.

I grinned evilly. Eyes closed, laid flat on his back.. what a vulnerable position to be in. Its key to what we're _not_ supposed to do. Tsk, tsk Fang, dearie. I got up, ready to give him a double chop down on his shoulder blades.

I raised my arm, ready to impale down onto him with mighty MAX force, but on the first downswing.. I found myself falling over and doing a cartwheel onto the grass.. In a small second, Fang had opened his eyes and dashed away hurriedly. That was weird. Its as if he did it, not cause I was about to physically abuse him, but just because. Feeling rather foolish, I picked up the laundry basket and to go tell Gazzy and Nudge to fold the freshly laundered clothes.

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"Hey where's Fang?" Gazzy asked at dinner.

I stared at the two empty trays of lasagna in front of his usual chair. Dinner was something no one in the flock ever missed. Iggy spends hours slaving over dinner. Its not just him either, it's a group effort. Tonight was lasagna. 12 dishes, two lasagnas for each of us.

"Can I have his then?" the Gasman asked eagerly, sticking his fork into one of Fang's trays. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, that was weird, he was helping me make dinner with Iggy too," Nudge said, in the middle of a rant about My Little Pony.

"I think you should go check up on him, Max, he sounds like he's in pain," Angel said worriedly.

Now that really alarmed me. Everyone froze when Angel said that. I quickly turned to her.

"How long has he been up there, sweetie?" I asked her, painstakingly slowly. Angel always neglected to tell us crucial pieces of information until she thought it necessary through her own personal judgment, or when she simply remembered to. You can probably guess how reliable a 5-year-old's sense of propriety is..

"Since about 7, I think," Angel said innocently. My eyes widened. That was a over 2 hours ago.

The flock all jumped out of their seats to heading for the stairs to our bedrooms, sans Angel.

"I don't think we should all go up there. He doesn't want us there. He keeps saying that he wishes Jeb were here.." Angel said thoughtfully, still sitting in her seat.

Nudge sat down, her lower lip quivering, and her fists clenching the edge of the table. The Gasman made fists on the back of his chair. Poor gazzy, trying to play it cool. Iggy looked helpless, but immediately began rubbing Nudge's shoulder.

"Iggy, why don't you guys go watch some tv. I'm sure Fang is fine. He's Fang. I'll go check up on him. Nudge, its your turn to do the dishes. Chop chop, come on," I said in my leader Max voice. Somehow that tone of voice made everyone better again.. As long as I could radiate a sense of security. The Key is to pretend that you know what you're doing, so that everyone else will put their trust in you. Remember, theres _always _a plan. Being a leader is just.. being someone to rely on, I suppose. I'm Maximum Ride, and I'm here to protect my flock.


	4. Let Me Help You

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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**Chapter Four**: Let Me Help You

I worriedly walked up the stairs to Fang's room. I took a deep breath and knocked. If he wouldn't come out, I had every intention to go in. I knocked surely and strongly.

"Fang, open up. You didn't come to dinner. Seriously, what are you doing in there?" I said sternly.

I heard a deep murmur from within.

"What? I can't hear a word. FANG if you DONT open this door RIGHT NOW, I WILL knock it down. I am NOT kidding Fang, you KNOW me."

"Go away," he said, a bit louder this time. At least I heard it this time around.

"No, Fang. What's wrong with you? You've been weird all day. Angel told me what you're thinking Fang. Why do you need Jeb, Fang? _We_ don't need him anymore. Anything he can do, I can do, better."

"GO AWAY MAX," I heard a full blown shout from inside the door. I was amazed. I didn't know he had the capacity to raise his voice to me. A thought suddenly struck me. If he's shouting, there must really be something wrong he didn't want to me to find out about.

"FANG I'M COMING IN WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT," I exclaimed through the door. I kicked several times. Hard. Until I smashed my big toe. I stood outside in the narrow hallway clutching my poor toe with my eyes tearing.

"WHAT THE FUCK MAX?!?" I heard him shout from inside. Those kicks must've been pretty dang hard then, to tick him off. Go me!

"Uh-uh-uh, don't be a potty mouth fangy-poo. I'm coming in, so DEAL WITH IT!" I screamed at his door, still clutching my foot. Just for the sake of emphasis, I kicked the door one more time, loudly.

Definitely not a smart move. I wiped tears from the corners of my eyes. Why did I have to kick the door with the _same _foot?! Screw emphasis... Maximum Ride needs her big toe.

I smacked my forehead. Another thought had suddenly struck me. Maximum Ride, you dumb butt. Why do you need to knock the door down, when you can just _fly_ in through his window? I rolled my eyes, for perhaps the 18th time today.

I stared at Fang's dumb door with disgust once I was done giving my big toe a well-deserved minute of pitying. It's just _got_ to be _so_ dang hard, doesn't it?

"Oh-kayy Fang, I give up. You win. I can't break your door down. So I guess I can't come in. OH WELL," I sung loudly at the door. I waited for a second, but didn't hear any response.

Staring at my poor toe sympathetically, I limped to my room at the end of the hallway, to vapidly fly out my window. I turned around two corners of our E-shaped house, until I found the window that I estimated to be Fang's. I was pretty sure it was his, cause the blinds were shut and all.

Hovering over the one single tiny window that he had in his room, I felt quite like Tinkerbell in that movie Peter Pan, while I was trying to open that dumb window guard of his. Why does he even have one anyway? I finally tugged it off, and threw it down.. somewhere.. I'm guessing into our backyard.. I mentally said sorry to any squirrels hurt in the haste of the process. But this was really necessary. Fang skipped dinner? Fang asked for Jeb? Fang's in pain and decided not to exert enough willpower to hide it from Angel? Definitely serious.

I grunted as I folded myself to shimmy into his room through the window like an accordion. I could hear Fang growling irritatedly at my antics once he had figured out what I was doing when I was halfway in. Once I was in, I stood up from where I had landed headfirst on the floor, and straightened out my clothes. The room was dark. How unexpected. (Can ya feel the surprise?) Fang was sitting on his bed, both of his hands holding his head, his arms propped up on his knees, sitting on the bed. His head was facing down as his hands ran through the surface of his scalp. The room was hot and dark, shadows filling the corners. There was a bit of clutter on the floor, drawing paper, cd albums, pieces of paper, some clothes casually thrown about haphazardly, but it wasn't a substantial mess.

Fang didn't look at me. But I could feel his anger radiating out towards me.

"Get, OUT Max. Now." Fang growled in the most lethally quiet voice, perhaps on the face of the earth.

I gulped audibly, but don't get me wrong. I definitely wasn't scared of him.

"Fang, what's wrong with you?! Why aren't you telling me what's wrong with you? Let me help you, Fang. You're a part of this flock whether you like it or not. Stop being so damned stubborn." I said to him, almost pleading, standing in front of the side of his bed.

"Max, get out. Please." He said quietly this time. Somehow, it sounded miles more dangerous this time.

I just started to get irrationally angry now.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THE FLOCK IS WORRIED FOR YOU? DO YOU? DO YOU EVEN CARE? DO YOU GIVE A SHIT, FANG? THEY CARE ABOUT YOU. WHY DONT YOU GIVE THEM THAT RESPECT AT THE LEAST?! CAN'T YOU FREAKING TELL ME WHATS BEEN WITH YOU TODAY?!" I screamed at him.. my spit was flying everywhere.. I couldn't help it. Tears started forming in my eyes. Real ones. Not ones that come when you hurt bang your toe a bunch of times. Emotional ones. Un-Max-like ones. Fang was quiet.

"Max.. please.. just-" Fang's voice broke. He didn't sound lethal anymore, just desperate. It irked me, but somehow that didn't register in my mind. I kept on screaming. Sometimes I don't get myself.

"Why? WHY DO YOU NEED JEB? Why do you want Jeb? I thought YOU, of all people, would be the one to get over him above all. We worked SO hard to forget him, and now you're telling me that he's still in this house anyway? What can't I do that Jeb can? What am I missing? I've been trying SO hard Fang. You _know_, Fang. You_ do_ know. I've been trying SO hard to keep this flock together. To show that we don't need that son of a bastard. What is it? What am I doing wrong? Why can't you tell me what's wrong with you? Why do you need _Jeb_?" At this point I was on Fang's floor.

I was curled up in a ball.. my arms wrapped around my knees, and my head in my stomach.. Everything was rushing out of me. Everything that I'd been worried about the past 10 months. 'Cause right now, of all times, I felt like.. like such a failure. I'd been trying so hard the whole year.. but I still couldn't help Fang, the one who had taken my hand and pulled me up. Fang wanted Jeb.. I wasn't the one that he thought would be able to help him. If I couldn't help him, how was I supposed to protect my four other bird kids? How could I do this? Why wouldn't he tell me what's wrong with him? Why did he need JEB? That son of a bastard.. I thought we didn't need him anymore. Am I still not good enough? Can't I measure up?

Fang shouted quietly into the covers that were over his knees.

"AGH. Max.. You don't understand. I don't want Jeb back. We don't need him anymore. But I can't tell you whats wrong with me. I don't want Jeb back. But I cant.. tell you whats wrong with me."

It was quiet for a long time.. maybe it was 2 or 3 minutes. Maybe it was just 30 seconds. I rubbed my face clean of any remnants of anything unproffesional-max. I looked up at him, still sitting on the floor beside his bed. His head was still facing down, but now resting ontop his folded arms on his propped up knees. It was silent for a while longer. For the first time, I looked closely at him. He was profusely sweaty, his hair was slicked back and messy with moisture and humidity, but he was still submerged underneath the covers.

"Fang, you're sweating bullets, take off the covers," I said to him calmly.

"No, Max... Please, just Get Out," he said in a low, cracking voice.

"Fang.. I need to protect you. You're a part of my flock. Let me help you. Tell me what's wrong with you. I can help you. You know I'd die for you, cause I know you'd die for me. You're hurting the flock so much right now. We don't know whats wrong with you, you're not telling me anything. If you don't want Jeb back, then why do you did you ask for him? Fang?" I leaned closer to him, standing on my knees next to his bed.

"I.. can't." He hesitated. "I know.. I know I'm hurting you. I know the flock is worried. But I can't.. I don't.. know.. what's wrong with me." He said.

"Can't what, Fang? What am I to you that you can't _something, anything_ to me? Its my job to help you.. let me help you." I paused for a moment to give him a hard stare. "You don't always need to face your shit all by your self, doofus." I knocked lightly on his head with my fist jokingly.

Fang lifted his head, and his face startled me. Beads of sweat ran down his hairline, his eyes were open, but his face seemed drained, so tired, so exhausted, pained. I had a sudden thought that if he were a cartoon, he'd definitely be blue or some varying shade of purple. I shook that thought out of my head as I realized that something was definitely wrong.

"I can't show you whats wrong with me. I don't know.. I don't get why its like this, but I can't stand it anymore. I really really can't stand it anymore. All day its been so dreadful.." he ran his hands through the wet hair on his head from his forehead to his neck. I was superlatively surprised. It was an insanely long sentence, coming from Fang. I stayed very quiet, staring up at him on the bed from my spot on the floor.

"Show me Fang.. What's wrong..?" I whispered desperately, looking up at him. I was worried beyond measure, seeing him like this. He looked like he was going to die. I couldn't have my best friend die. We were thirteen. Thirteen. I wouldn't be able to survive without Fang. How would I protect my flock, how would I protect myself without him? He was the only person who knew me almost as well as I knew myself—probably even better. He can't die. I relied on him. It'd be too selfish of him to.

"Max... I can't.." but he resignedly took his arms off his knees and leaned back into his headboard. He was taking shallow heavy breaths. He was scaring me so much at this point. The covers were still up to his chest, but his sweat had clearly sunk down from his neck to his abdomen.

Fang exhaled loudly, and threw the hot covers off of himself, instantly looking marginally less tense, as the cooler air ran over his body. He lay on the bed completely face up, his head turned to look at me kneeling at the side of his bed, his eyes open, his adam's apple swinging up and down.

I stared at his torso and his boxer shorts. I couldn't fathom anything to be wrong from the sight of things.

"What's wrong?" I asked him. I needed an actual answer.

Fang stiffly lifted up his pelvic area and slid his boxers down, seeming to relish in the cool air washing over the lower regions of his sweat-soaked body. Normally, I would be turning away profusely, face red hot, but this was different. There was something wrong with Fang. He needed help. I stared at the newly exposed part of him intensely, trying to assess it and figure out what the problem was. Unfortunately, I didn't have much experience in the area.

"It's.. it's not supposed to be like that," Fang said to me in broken words. He wasn't looking at me, but straight ahead, at the end of his bedpost's foot board. He was looking at everything _except_ me. So this is why he wanted Jeb. I felt rather foolish at the moment for misunderstanding.

"It's hard... and it isn't usually like... that. And.. I feel like I'm going to explode. Everything is numb. My thighs, and my abdomen.. they all feel so numb. It feels so weird... I can't explain it. Like I'm about to explode, like I'm going self-combust. I can't stand it anymore, it hurts so much.. It's so uncomfortable.. I can't stand this" Fang said slowly, his voice laced with pain. He was clenching his jaw, and speaking through his teeth.

"It went away for a little bit after I showered, but it just came back again. Max.. Max, what's wrong with me? " Fang said in between breaths.

I looked at him, feeling so ridiculously helpless. He looked like he was in so much pain.. I felt like crying. What was I supposed to do? I didn't have a single clue as to how to help him. The first thing I decided to do, was the obvious thing. What Jeb always did to us whenever we got hurt in training.

I took his towel from the back of his desk chair, and wiped down his body, cleaning all the sweat starting from his face, down to his legs. But when I brushed over his penis, he groaned.

"Fang! Fang, are you okay? I'm so sorry, Fang," I exclaimed. He closed his eyes tightly and turned his head to one side, breathing deeply in and out.

"Yeah, yeah I think so." He kept breathing deeply in and out, but he was looking more awake now.

I helped him change into a new shirt that wasn't soaked in sweat, and then I rolled the new shirt halfway up his chest. I'd follow to do the next thing that I'd always seen Jeb do when we'd ever gotten hurt. I took two fingers and gently pressed down on his abdomen. He groaned lightly.

"Does this hurt?" I asked him tentatively.

"I.. I don't know.." That worried me. How did he not know? Was it so numb that he couldn't feel pain? Maybe lack of blood circulation? How the heck did he get hurt like this? A million things were frantically running through my mind.

"Fang, can you feel this?" I asked again, worriedly. I moved my two fingers and pressed into another spot on his lower abdomen.

"No.. no.. not over there, over, over here," Fang said breathlessly. His eyes were closed, and his speech was still stifled. He was breathing shallow breaths. He took my hand with his and moved to a spot dangerously close to his mound of pubic hair. Close to where I had pressed down previously. His breaths grew deeper. He pressed my hands deeper into his lower abdomen with his, sliding our hands down and up the ripples on his skin on his abdominal muscles.

"Fang, is this hurting you?" I asked slowly again, worried. He hadn't answered the last few times, and I was getting intensely worried. What if he was internally bleeding? We can't get him to a hospital, thats like the second rule in the flock: Never let anyone find out about us, ever. The first rule was to live for the flock. I thought critically that the second rule could be breached because of the first rule, in certain circumstances.. I frantically decided that if this got serious, Iggy and I would have to fly Fang down to a Colorado Hospital. He can't bail on us like that. We'd do anything to make sure of it.

"It, no, it feels good Max.. It feels so good," Fang said erratically, within choked breaths. He let go of my hand as I began to continue pressing down through his lower abdomen following what he had done over my hands before. His breathing began to grow heavier.

"Max.. don't stop.. I.. I feel like I'm going to explode even more. I can't stand this.. Max, what is this? I don't get it, what's wrong with me.. I can't stand this feeling.." Fang clutched the bedsheets under his hands on either sides of him and tugged on them as I continued to apply pressure to his abdomen.

After a while, I decided to continue the initial consultation. I let go of his torso and moved my hand over to his upper thighs and pressed down. Fang groaned, marginally loudly.

"Can you feel this too? Does it hurt here?" I asked him worriedly.

"Ma-ax.." he groaned out, throwing his neck back and thrashing his head from side to side.

"Oh my god, Max.." he continued to say.

Suddenly he grabbed the hand that was I was pressing into his upper thigh, covering it with his own. Fang's eyes were half-lidded, making me worriedly wonder if he was conscious of himself. He took my hands, covered with his own, and placed them palm-down flat on his penis. It was lying splayed across of his left thigh.

"Max.. max.. that, that feels good," Fang said in a choked voice.

"What, you mean, the contact here?" I asked him, to clarify.

Experimentally, I applied pressure to it, since thats what he had seemed to respond positively to. Fang moaned.. except, for the first time, the moan didn't hold a hint of pain, it was purely positive.. purely.. wanting. Fang took my hand and wrapped it around his penis, his hand over mine. His neck was still thrown back on his pillow, and his eyes were closed, facing his ceiling. He quickly slid our hands up it, and then down. His breathing was shallow and quick, and hard all at the same time. He let go of my hand, and clutched his bedsheets again, beginning to instinctively push his pelvis up and down off the bed, sliding his penis in my palm.

"No.. I think.. I think it's the friction," He responded to me. I mentally breathed a sigh of relief, he had actually answered one of my questions. He sounded more conscious and awake now, as well. He sounded better, I thought hopefully, desperately.

"Max.. harder, harder.. tighter.. It needs to be harder," he said in a low, gruff voice. I nodded determinedly, and squeezed my hand tighter around his penis. Fang was grunting uncontrollably at this point, he had stopped thrusting, and it was just me holding onto his penis with both hands going up and down, squeezing as tight as I possibly could. At some point Fang began to say between gasps, "Max, max.. it feels like.. almost.. there..," and before I knew it, mucus-like whitish fluid had found itself all over my sleeves, his thighs and abdomen. The white stuff was what was making his penis all hard, that made him feel like he needed to explode, making his thighs and abs hurt so much, to get it out.

Fang was breathing deeply, I picked up his towel from the floor and began to clean up the sticky white fluid residue. After I was done, and Fang seemed to have settled a bit, I began to ask him questions anxiously.

"Fang.. Fang, are you okay? Fang? Hey?" I desperately searched his face for any signs. He didn't respond, still breathing heavily.

"Is this what its supposed to look like? It's not hard anymore, is it? Fang?" I asked him, touching the softened penis, while blubbering out whatever came to mind in anxiety. Fang looked at me, a soft look washing over his features. He touched my cheek gently.

"Yeah.. I'm good now.. Thank you.. Thank you so much, Max." Fang said gently. His hand was sitting lightly on my face.

It was so Un-Max-like of me.. But I started to cry.. I didnt even know why. I felt so dumb.. Fang's rough callused fingers wiped each tear away before they could drop more than a centimeter. I grabbed the side of his shirt that was facing me with my fists and dug my face into the area of mattress below his right arm.

"Fang.. Fang.. I seriously thought I was going to lose you.. I didn't know what to do.. Fang, I was so scared.. I'm.. I'm so happy you're okay now. I thought I couldn't help you." I'm not sure if he heard me, muffled into his mattress, but he probably did. He's Fang. It's sort of his job to hear everything embarrassing I might ever have the unfortunate circumstance to say in my entire life, happen to catch me in my most unflattering, embarrassing moments I may ever be in, in my entire life. It's just what he does. I felt him put a hand on the back of my head, and run his fingers through my hair. Tiredly he said, "Its okay now.. I'm good now. Thank you Max."


	5. Perfectly Fine

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Five****:** Perfectly Fine

I walked into Gazzy's room and ruffled his hair.

"If you want breakfast, then UP," I said to him threateningly.

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up," he whined, rubbing his eyes and thrashing about on his bed beneath my hand.

"Hey hey, you want a noogie?" I asked him, grinning. He jumped out of his bed in almost less than a second.

"Eheh.. No thanks, Max.." he said to me slowly, with a fearful look on his face. I smiled pleasantly, hearing the bathroom door slam shut somewhere behind my back. I lifted his covers and smoothed them out, folding his blanket, I made his bed, leaving his room satisfied.

I walked out of his room, and found myself facing Fang's bedroom door. I raised my fist, ready to give him the usual morning knock with just a turn of my wrist, but stopped. I frowned, suddenly remembering yesterday. Fang could sleep in today.

I wondered if he was actually okay, as I walked the small distance to the room next to his, which belonged to Angel and Nudge.

I walked into the pale pink and lavender room, my mind scattered, and found Angel already awake, combing her doll's hair with a thick-toothed doll comb.

"Good morning Max," she said.. angelically. There really was no other way to describe it. It's like the mornings beckon out the best of her angelic nature. She smiled widely at me, closing her eyes as she tilted her head to one side.

"Good morning Angel, did you sleep well honey?" I asked her, as I walked over to sit on the edge of Nudge's bed. I rubbed Nudge's back, receiving an irritated moan from her. Angel nodded cutely.

"Fangs feeling better, by the way," she conveniently informed me. I frowned at her.

"What did I tell you about privacy, honey? You shouldn't read other people's minds if you don't have their permission." I said to her sternly, for about the six hundredth time this week.

"Oops.. I'm sorry, Max," Angel said with such an intensely sad look on her face, you'd feel as guilty as I did. I shook my head to get those thoughts out of my head. She needed to learn. Babying her wasn't going to help. She couldn't get away with everything.

"No excuses Angel." She looked down at her lap, folding her hands tightly.

"Okay, Max. I won't anymore. Promise," she swore. She got out of her bed slowly, looking down, and padded down to the hallway to the girl's bathroom with her shoulders sagging.

I turned to Nudge. She was awake by now, I knew it, but hadn't opened her eyes yet. I stared at her. She could feel me staring at her, I knew that too. She slowly opened one eye, and closed it again.

I was debating whether or not to blow a raspberry into her tummy or hang her upside down from her ankles. I tapped my chin thoughtfully, humming. Nudge knew what that meant too.

"I'm up, I'm up!!" She gasped, sitting up, eyes wide open, looking wary of me. I grinned at her.

"Well, thats convenient, cause now I won't have to go all the way down to the basement to get the floodlights," I said to her sweetly. She rolled her eyes. She was totally learning from me. Nudge yawned loudly, stretching. She gasped, suddenly remembering something.

"Oh my god Max, is Fang okay now?" she asked, worry etched onto the contours of her face. Nudge was an early sleeper, she was always the first one out in the flock nowadays; now that the Gasman has gotten a bit older, he wants to stay up with Iggy more, since he can. When I found them, Nudge was sleeping soundly on the couch, tucked into Iggy's ribcage as he played a game of scrabble with Angel (which he was losing miserably at, mind you, but still fairing well, which is an astonishing feat in itself when playing against Angel sans the fact that he's blind), and Gazzy watched Ghostbusters on tv.

I'd come down to check on them after Fang had quietly and smoothly fell asleep during the middle of my obsessive rant on his health. I came down livid at the sight that I saw—the flock hadn't gone to bed yet and it was already 1:10, but they'd said they were staying up for Fang. I'd told them that he was okay now, so that they shouldn't worry and get their little arses brushed and pajama'ed. Gazzy had already been nodding his head up and down, half leaning on Nudge's side by that time anyhow. Iggy had carried them up and changed them both.

"Yeah, he's fine now," I said to her, rubbing her shoulder reassuringly. But honestly, I was still worried about him. Even if he wasn't fine, he wouldn't tell me. And he's the best at blocking out Angel too. I frowned a tiny bit, ushering Nudge into the bathroom as Angel returned.

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After getting the kids up, I got dressed myself, going downstairs to help Ig with breakfast—preferably in a way that didn't require getting near any of the actual cookingness, just to keep the flock from screeching their heads off at the sight of me near their food..

These kids and their food, I repeat, a relationship you'll never understand.

I reached the kitchen only to be greeted with two teenage bird boys trying to make pancakes high-five midair on the stove.

I stood there growling for a moment, arms crossed, tapping a foot on the floor. Iggy turned his head around (did I ever mention that Iggy, the blind guy, is creepily accurate in confronting people?), and grinned at me mischievously, flashing his pearly whites.

I shook my head... rolling my eyes. (Seriously, do they have like an award for that? Biggest eye-roller?) Besides, its their fault if they drop a pancake.. less food for them.. they so wouldn't risk their food.. Eh, no harm, no foul, I thought to myself. Boys will be boys.

Last night came rushing back to me for the second time that morning. I jerked my head up from the counter to the backs that were facing me, pinpointing the one donning a plain black shirt. Fang was up. And he seemed.. beyond normal.. goofing off with Iggy. I was slightly unnerved.. he'd gotten up earlier than me today.

His posture told me that he was aware of the fact that I was staring at his back. I was waiting for something, anything. I wanted to interrogate him _so_ bad. Just turn him around and start bombarding him with questions, check his temperature and.. uh well, pull down his pants to check too.

After 5 minutes of a staring contest between the back of his neck and I, he began to turn around excruciatingly slowly...

...to put a stack of pancakes onto the counter and swiftly turn back. My left eye twitched murderously at him. He knew very well I had something to say. He knew very well he was irritating me. Sadistic bastard..

I turned away from the back of his neck momentarily to break up the fight between Nudge and Gazzy. He was flinging bread crumbs at her using a plastic spoon, and she was screeching shrilly at him, making death threats. You'd think that she'd know by now, that all that that does is provoke him to bug her even more. I offhandedly wondered when they got down here.. I hadn't even noticed. Bad Max. Bad. I swung into leader-mode, grabbing Gazzy's wrist, and putting a hand over Nudge's mouth at the same time. I waited for five long seconds, turning my head left and right, giving them hard stares. I slowly let go. After two seconds of blissful quiet, the noise broke out.

"But she was--"

"HE WAS TOTA--"

"uh-uh-uh" I warned them condescendingly, raising an eyebrow. They zipped their mouths shut, settling for sending eachother glares from across the table. I slapped my hands onto the table top loudly as Iggy sat down.

I smiled pleasantly. "WHAT a beautiful day it is today!" I exclaimed, looking around the table and smiling widely. Somewhere in the distance, thunder resonated. A sudden harsh downpour followed 2 seconds later, signified by the loud spattering sounds on our kitchen windows. I continued smiling at everyone, hard. They all looked at me wearily.

Fang turned around from the sink where he'd been washing his hands and came to join the rest of us at the table. He stood in front of the chair facing me. I could see his slated eyes through his dark bangs, and I swore I saw a raised eyebrow above his left eye. He effortlessly assessed me.

"Yo," he said casually, looking at me, his palms leaning on the chair back. I paused, taken by surprise.

"yo..." I said back quietly, staring up at him with wide eyes, armed with a fork.

He took the seat, without moving his gaze away from my eyes. He really knew how to irritate me. Ignore me for 40 minutes and then freak me out with excessive eye contact. Sure.

"Oh my god Fang, like, are you okay? Last night, Angel told us that you were like, in pain, and then like Max told us to watch tv and then we fell asleep and like we were all wondering why you asked for..." Nudge really needs to learn when to shut up sometimes, I thought. So much for subtlety..

Fang cleared his throat. He put his fork down onto the table.

"Yeah, I just wasn't in the mood yesterday. Down day. No biggie. I'm fine now," Fang said conversationally. He stuck another bite into his mouth. Fang was a strange eater. It never failed to astonished me. He ate slowly... but so god damned quickly. His movements were slow and deliberate, but before you knew it, he'd cleared twelve dishes. It wasn't like Gazzy or Iggy, stuffing as much food into their large chipmunk cheeks as could be made possible, or like Nudge whose trained hands always had a ready supply to refill her awaiting dainty mouth, nor Angel who tended to just consistently snack throughout. In the end though, it was still the same amount of food sitting in each of our state-of-the-art genetically pioneered tummies.

I looked up at him. He knew he had lied. But he's not the type to care about what I thought about his moral integrity. And regardless, I obviously couldn't blame him for lying. I guess I expected to exchange a spark of knowledge with him when I lifted my head up, but his eyes weren't knowing or suspicious. He just stared right back at me, the same way he'd stare at the t.v., or at pancake batter, apathetic and unfeeling.

My face wrinkled up.. theres absolutely no way he'd forgotten... I think... Naw, I was sure. If he'd forgotten, he wouldn't have been being making me have a staring contest with the back of his neck. I subconsciously scratched the back of neck, mulling that thought over a tiny bit. Naw, nevermind. He's Fang.. close to impossible to figure out. For all I know, he could've just been being irritating for the sheer sake of irritating me. Duh.

"Then what was wrong with you?" Gazzy asked him.

"...Well, I—," Fang started to say.

"Don't suffocate him with questions, guys. He said it was just a down day," I casually interrupted. Trust me, it _so _was not just me helping him out in order to figure out whether or not he actually remembers last night. Totally not. I was just teaching the kids a lesson in manners. Ahem. (I'd appreciate it if you guys refrain from commenting on our current mannerisms....).

Fang looked at me, his eyes shining the slightest bit in the morning light. The morning showers had stopped, and the sun was shining in through the kitchen windows brighter than ever.

"Yeah. It was. But Max helped me," he finally said. He had turned to look directly at me at the end of that last statement. We exchanged glances—he _did_ remember last night.

The Gasman shrugged, the fork clattering onto his plate as he got up from his seat energetically.

"ANGEL, LET'S RACE!!" Gaz said excitedly.

"No! You always win, its not fair.." she replied, pouting. It was true. Nudge is miles faster than Gazzy, so the only person he feels success in racing is Angel.

I stared at them bickering for a moment. Mentally smacked my head. I put my hand on her shoulder and faced the Gasman.

"Angel can't race with you anyway, she can't get too tired out. Fang needs to teach her the side swerve today," I glanced at Fang, and then changed my mind, "well actually, we've got a bunch of chores today. Fang might be too busy to train you today, but you're going to have to learn it eventually." I said to Angel. "Oh, and Gazzy, don't make Angel race you.. Go wrestle Iggy or something. Competing against inferior peers isn't going to help you improve," I said to him seriously, fighter to fighter. That tone of voice always makes me feel special.

"Okay!!" he replied, pumped up to go find Iggy. He was halfway out the side porch when I called after him, "WAIT GAZZY! Its your turn.. to do the dishes," I finished dejectedly. Those kids were way too good at this whole avoiding-chores shindig they got going on. I rolled my eyes. Alls well that ends well. Kids will be kids.

"'S'al' good. I'll do them," Fang said, rolling up his sleeves. He donned the rubber gloves on his hands and began soaping with Angel next to him, waiting to dry. I stared at the backs of the two fondly.

I sighed a tired breath I had been holding in all through breakfast. A wave of relief washed over me. Fang seemed perfectly fine.


	6. Relaxation

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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**Chapter Six**: Relaxation

I ducked down two feet and reached over, tapping Gazzy on his shoulder. When he turned around, I quickly flew past him on his opposite side. He looked around confusedly for about two minutes, while I snickered loudly far off in the distance.

After the morning showers, the weather seemed absolutely beautiful—just cloudy enough for me to officially allow the flock to fly past the cliffs.

The feeling was incredible. Definitely, _flying_ was incredible. I relished in the feeling of my wingspan stretching and flexing, I could feel my trained muscles taut and tight against the soft downy feathers on the tips of my wings. I savored the feeling of wind flying out onto my face as I cut through it like a knife on butter. .

Sometimes, just sometimes, it feels like living in a cage for the first 10 years of life is an easy trade for being able to experience an incredible feeling like this.

I closed my eyes and lifted my arms out to my sides, slowing down a bit to revel in all of the world's glory. (No wonder the flocks' got such superiority complexes in comparison to normal people..).

A quiet whisp sounded above me, to my right. I looked up, squinting against the sunlight, and saw a figure clad in black coasting about.

Fang flew around me in a tilted circle, with an irregular axis—first he swooped down a few hundred feet below me, and then he charged up, coasting over me, and then swooped back down again, coming back up to the same spot he was in relation to me.

I felt good. Flying in beautiful weather always made me feel good. Thats probably why I started laughing and smiling drunkenly. I flew a similar irregular circle around him, however, my axis was superlatively more oblong—like I said, I was definitely not the technical flyer of the flock.

"What is that, a trapazoid, or a plane crash?" Fang called out to me, smirking, as I came back up to my original disposition.

I would've normally gotten uptight about that comment, but I just stuck my tongue out at him. See, that's not so bad. It's not insanely embarrassing. Its just the whole wiggling-it-at-him business I regret. But secretly, that grin made my heart flutter a bit on the inside. I resented the dumb feeling in the pit of my gut, but I couldn't help blushing madly. Dumb things like these cause me to do dumb things like wiggle my tongue at him.

Fang made a face.. like he was trying devastatingly hard not to burst out laughing. I gave him a snide ugly grin, and then went up 400 feet or so. He followed me. We were above a whole new layer of clouds. He was flying to my right, at the same pace, about 2 feet behind me probably. He was, of course, a lot more quieter and suave than myself though. It would usually have irritated me, but I was in too much of a good mood this afternoon. We soared through the sky, and at some point Nudge and Angel had found us, and we took the flight together, high above the Colorodo Mountains and town.

Angel was talking about puppies, or something, with Nudge, and Nudge was talking about those little clothes they have for puppies. I never got the point of that. Dogs had fur for a reason.. and if they couldn't make clothes for themselves with their own hands, they obviously were not meant to have them. Fang was being... Fang. I looked over at him. His eyes were closed, his face looking more relaxed than I'd seen it.. ever. Ever since I've known him, since our cages were placed next to eachothers' at The School, where we were engineered, he'd always had a serious look on his face, always tense, alert. It was when we flew, for enjoyment.., that was when he looked truly.. happy.

He opened his eyes suddenly and stared at me staring at him. I blushed profusely and quickly snapped my head back. In fact, I may have snapped it back too quickly. Ouch.

"I'm Hungry," Nudge said. Like I haven't heard that before.. Maybe the 600th time this week? Naw, 601st, to be accurate. I sighed. It was a nice flight, but all good things must come to an end. Its a part of life.

"Okay honey. Let's go down to the picnic baskets then. Letsee what Iggy packed for us," I said to her, smiling genuinely. Man, I sure seemed to be in a _really_ good mood today..

"Yay!!" Nudge exclaimed, wooting. "He made tuna sandwiches and egg salad and french toast and bread and cranberry jam and raspberries, you know, I don't get why blueberries aren't even like blue, cause they're like totally purple, but its okay cause purple is so much prettier anyway.." she began ranting.

"Yeah, it's really yummy, we helped pack all of it!" Angel cut in.

"Sounds good," Fang said to them with a tiny, microscopic, minuscule smile planted on his face. But it was definitely there, and we all knew it. But then again, who couldn't help but smile at those two adorable little girls?

The four of us, in V-formation, turned in a graceful semi-circle and began to head back.

Nudge and Angel landed in a rush, I watched Angel wobble a tiny bit on the ground. They raced up the grassy lawn to the blanket Iggy had lain out, their childish laughter filling the air. Fang and I landed shortly after they did, watching them from behind, walking the uphill slope in slow and steady pace.

"This is nice." I said suddenly, stretching my arms high above my head. Fang was walking just behind me—I could feel his presence looming over me, just behind my right ear.

"Yeah.. it really is," he said.

"They're so happy like this," I commented.

"This is what we were meant to do Max.. We were meant to fly." he said confidently. It almost made me feel guilty for not letting the flock fly past the cliffs normally. Almost.

"We can't risk getting sighted, Fang," I said seriously. "You know as well as I do how much I love seeing them like this.. But they're not old enough.. not careful enough."

"I was Nudge's age when I first went to the supermarket, Max." he responded.

I spun around and sat down on the grass where I had been standing. My back was to the flock, meters away. I rubbed my forehead, leaning my head on my hand. For some strange reason the sunlight I had been relishing in previously, seemed to be charging down onto me relentlessly now, giving me a throbbing headache.

"That's different Fang.. Do you think I would let you to go into town if I didn't need to? You first went down into town cause Jeb was_ training _you, Fang. That was just once when you were her age. Now we know that everything matches up, we know that he was planning on leaving us." I said to him, massaging my forehead. Why was he trying to pick a fight?

"They have a right to know what its like out there, Max.." he said to me seriously. "Why don't you come with me next time? Theres so much out there Max, its unbelievable.. it's incredible. We can't live our whole lives cooped up in a house, isolated from the world that we live in, Max. There's too much we're missing." He sat down next to me, leaning in towards my side and speaking close to my ear in a low, gruff voice. I shivered in the warm weather.

I'd been past the cliffs countless times, but into town maybe just once. It was Fang who always did the shopping and groceries for supplies.

"Okay.. I'll think about it," I whispered. He was close enough to hear me.. speaking in a normal voice would've burst his eardrums.

"Then thats good," he whispered back into my ear. He got up from the grass and turned around, walking back to the picnic blanket. I sat there for a moment longer, and then followed him.

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"AHA I WIN!!" Gazzy shouted excitedly. His voice reverberated out over the hill.

"Down, Nudgie" he said to her cackling, an evil grin spread out onto his face.

She squealed, her face crumpling up in fear. She had lost their half-hour game of gruesome thumb wrestling. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she squatted down. Bending down behind her, Gazzy swung his arm back 180 degrees, and then swung it forward, hard, onto Nudge's behind. She squeaked loudly, falling forward into the cool grass with a soft "thump". She sat forward, crossing her legs and rubbing her posterior sadly. I'd imagine it to be red.

"I'll get you Gazzy!" she growled. She stood up and started chasing him around the vast green lawn in circles. Angel rolled her eyes, her facial expression frighteningly reminiscent of one of my own.

I leaned back on my arms propped up behind me. The cool shade of the tree I was lounging under on the picnic blanket was easing my headache away like a breath of fresh air. I sighed relaxedly, closing my eyes peacefully.

A thought just struck me. I immediately opened my eyes, searching the neat lawn with my expert-raptor vision. Where was Iggy? I started panicking, turning my head around frantically to search.

"He's by the creek, looking for a rock for a project he's planning." Angel interjected smoothly. It was like every sentence she said, she sung out. I would've lectured her for reading minds without permission for the third time today, but the day was too nice to pester her over such a seemingly small matter. At ease, I leaned back again, reveling in the short warm wind that blew my hair back past my face. I threw my head back, feeling very, very good. Angel was observing me, and then mimicked my actions, throwing her own head back. It felt like Jeb didn't even matter. We really, truly didn't need him. I felt so high, like I was on top of the world, even though I was still on the ground.

We watched Gazzy and Nudge come running back to the tree our blanket was under, Gazzy screaming "WHOO-HOO!" as he ran as fast as his wiry legs could take him, Nudge hot on his trail. He collapsed on the edges outside of the blanket, spreading his arms and legs wide on the cool green grass, staring up into the blue sky, breathing hard and laughing equally as hard in between his deep breaths. Nudge landed on her knees on the blanket two seconds later, her arms falling into my lap, her face flushed, the apples of her tanned cheeks stained a luscious shade of red. She was breathing hard too, but her anger that had been focused on Gazzy seemed to have dissipated, as the two of them joined together in breathless laughter, the remnants of their fierce adrenaline rush.

I couldn't help but laugh with them, but my laughter was more out of delight. It was good to see them like this.. to see them be the kids that they were underneath those wings. I felt a tear squeeze out of my right eye.. I didn't know why. I kept on laughing with them.. this was my flock, my beautiful, smart flock. And they were happy.

"But Max, you're a kid too. You're only thirteen," Angel said to me in my mind. I blinked soundly at her statement, and then chose to disregard it. I wasn't thirteen in my mind. In my mind, I was the leader of the flock. Age did not define who I was to be, I was not in a luxurious enough position to. We were not normal kids. But it was not their job to worry about us, it was mine. I blocked Angel out of my mind.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like a good leader. We didn't need Jeb. He could be rotting in heck right now. We didn't need him. We were fine. We were happy.

I heard a rustle up in the tree above us. I looked up to see a dark figure in the blue sky. It was Fang. Smiling up at him, I got up to join him. Gazzy got up too. With a running start, Gazzy lifted himself up into the air, his wings flapping solidly, supporting his weight. Looking up, I propelled myself forward and up, perfecting the formation—Fang on my right, the Gasman on my left. We flew together, up and over the clouds.. in Gazzy's unfortunate case, clumsily through them. He emerged wet and soggy, much to my amusement. Just when he'd begin to dry out in the sunlight, he'd smack right into another one. Adorable thing he is, really.

I looked behind me, checking on Fang—he had a relaxed expression on his face, his eyebrows furrowed—and Gazzy, who was looking down and squeezing the water out of shirt. Fang and I exchanged glances, and I had caught another one of his brief, heart-stopping smiles. My heart pounded for the next two minutes; I determinedly faced forward to hide my splotched red face.

Somewhere behind me, I suddenly heard a soft grunt. I looked to my right, and saw Fang wavering. His arms, usually strictly at his sides, was rubbing his neck instead and he was looking down instead of forward. He dropped in elevation to about 30 feet below us. My brows furrowed in confusion. I watched him expertly make a perfect angle and turn around, flying back. He was just probably heading back to the picnic blanket, I thought. I was enjoying the flight too much to be bothered to follow him.

The Gasman and I continued our flight for another 5 minutes, and then decided to head back to picnic blanket to eat berries. We both landed gracefully near the site, our faces flushed happily after a great flight.

We sat down and joined Angel and Nudge and Iggy, who had returned from the creek. I inspected Iggy carefully.. he was the most suspicious member of the flock.. And at the moment, he was definitely hiding something from me. I looked him up and down several times critically, but couldn't find anything wrong. He looked at me with a sheepish smile plastered on his face.

"Always suspect the blind guy, huh? This is subjugation man, SUBJUGATION, I want a lawyer!" he said to me with a loopy grin. To my own surprise, I suddenly burst out laughing and punched his arm playfully. The nice weather was definitely making _me_ loopy.

Too bad I had overlooked the substantially large sedimentary rock ostentatiously jutting out of his back pocket..

I picked up a few raspberries from a bowl on the blanket that Angel, Gazzy and Nudge were sitting around, popping them into my mouth. I took off my shoes before I stepped onto the blanket, and sat down, stretching my legs. I watched my toes wiggle and smiled. My back was leaning against Iggy's, he was busy making a few more PB&J sandwiches. Whatever would we do without Iggy? A saint—a diabolical bomb-creating mess of a saint, but a food-making saint nonetheless, I thought.

I leaned my head back so that it rested flat on top of his shoulder, he was about 4 inches taller than me now, at 5'8. I turned my head on his shoulder to observe his pale jaw. His cheeks were spotted with light brown freckles, and his beautiful sightless blue eyes, unfocused. They were as unfocused as they were the day the whitecoats brought him back to his cage with stained gauze wrapped around his eyes when we were seven. The freckles sat on high cheekbones. His face was long and thin, much like his body, I thought worriedly. He should be eating more. I felt guilty—it was my own duty to make sure my flock members were healthy. Those growth spurts were hitting both him and Fang hard. For about four months, Iggy couldn't get through a sentence without having his voice break at least seven times. His voice was deeper now, about 4 pitches deeper than it had been a year ago. Still, it wasn't as deep as Fang's. I shivered at the recollection of his gruff voice in my ear this afternoon. If Fang's voice had ever been cracking, he sure as heck didn't speak enough during that time period for any of us to notice.

"Fang should've gotten back before Gazzy and I. Where is he now?" I asked Ig absentmindedly. My eyes were closed and I felt myself falling into a lull of sleep. Leaning against his back, my head resting on his shoulder, I was feeling quite comfortable.. in the mood for a nap, actually.. I thought drowsily. Gazzy and Angel were already napping peacefully on the blanket. Angel was curled up, neatly laying on her side, while Gazzy was on his back with his arms and legs widely splayed out. Nudge was sitting in front of Iggy with her legs crossed, eating the PB&J sandwich he had made and watching him make another one quietly. The only time she was _ever _quiet was when food was in her mouth. I sighed contentedly, enjoying the lulling silence.

"Hmm? Oh, he didn't come back. I thought I heard him fly past us," Iggy replied. That woke me up. I jolted up off of him and stood up immediately, causing Iggy to fall back onto the blanket unexpectedly. He called out in pain, rubbing a bump on his head. He had slammed into a rock that had been on the grass underneath the blanket. "OWW!! MAX," he said to me irritatedly.

"What direction did he go?" I demanded of him. His body was laid out flat on the ground and he was still rubbing a spot on his head. His head was between my feet and I was frowning intensely at him. It would've been a lot more significant if he could see it though. Fang hadn't come back to the picnic area? Where the heck did he go? It was more trouble than you'd understand, to be leader of this flock. Keeping track of Fang was one of the harder tasks in the job description.

Iggy was still grumbling, irritatingly neglecting to answer my question.

"I think I saw him flying that-a-way," Nudge said helpfully. She looked up and pointed Northeast out in the clear blue sky.

I rubbed my forehead again. I could feel that headache coming back on.

I sighed. "You guys stay here. I'll go find Fang. Don't wake up Angel or Gazzy, let them take a good rest, cause they're probably pooped. I'll be right back," I instructed them. "Iggy's in charge," I added in an afterthought before I walked away to take off. Northeast was the direction our house was in. Maybe Fang went back there, but why the hell would he do that?

As I lifted myself up and propelled myself forward, flying towards the direction of our house, I wondered if it had actually been a good idea to put Iggy in charge.. I was wondering whether or not I'd find the beautiful green lawn burnt to a crisp by the time I got back. I shook my head sadly at the thought, reaching up to rub my forehead again.

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Thanks alot for the reviews guys! Though, I've gotten** superlatively **more alert subscriptions and favorited alot more than the amount of reviews I'm getting.. I wish more people would review, because then I can try and improve this stuff!

Just remember, YOUR REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY. HAPPY ME = BETTER FASTER STORY!!

I'm not going to be an annoying author who sets ultimatums for updates and chapters, so don't worry.

I update the story whenever I feel like it. I mean, I've already got chapters typed up and stuff. But to actually get on and make it all public is all a matter of whether or not I simply _feel_ like it at the moment. THE HAPPIER I AM, THE MORE I'LL FEEL LIKE IT. AND REVIEWS MAKE ME FEEL LIKE PEOPLE CARE. =)

Don't worry, things are going to get pretty heated. I've got pretty big plans for this story.. its going to be thick. Its all planned out, and all an extreme mix between angsty and kinky, heh.

~Catch ya on the flip side! :D


	7. Not So Fine

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?_

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**Chapter Seven**: Not So Fine

I landed gently on the front steps to our house, my left foot hitting the ground gently as my right relaxed from it's previously bent disposition to join it. I flexed my wings before I tucked them away below my shoulder blades.

I jammed open the door roughly, contrasting my calm landing. We didn't have keys—if someone could very well _find_ the house, we were in enough trouble. Keys weren't a very large priority in comparison; we didn't need to protect the contents of the house, but rather, the inhabitants.

I walked solidly, my footsteps reverberating through the house, "FANG? YOU HERE?" I called out from the main entranceway. I walked a bit further in, sort of in a rush to get out. If he wasn't here in the first place, going through the house looking for him would just be a waste of time. I glanced around the area quickly, but it was quiet. Running my eyes over the first floor once more, I suddenly caught sight of a black shirt thrown onto the floor haphazardly. It was inconspicuously sitting on the floor where the tiles of the kitchen area cleanly gave out to the carpeting of the den. I picked it up, it was wet in some areas. It was the shirt he had been wearing today... I think. It's hard to tell his clothes apart.. they all tend to be black. At least it was never trouble to sort his clothes in the laundry, but he recently began to do his own laundry the past two months.

I looked around the kitchen and caught sight of ice cubes sitting on top of the

kitchen counter next to the fridge. I fingered the wet areas of the shirt before I left it over the edge of the half-opened kitchen window to dry in the sun. At least I knew where he was now. Calmer now, I walked up the stairs, expecting to find him in his room. I knocked once on his door. "Yo, Fang, you in there?" I called out. I was received with silence. I knocked again, twice this time. Still nothing.

Quieting down, I closed my eyes and listened carefully, trying to tune into that genetically-engineered raptor hearing of mine. Unfortunately, I wasn't very good at it—never have been. In fact, Iggy's really the only one that can actually put that ability to any good use. The rest of us have yet to figure out how to focus in on it properly. I'm not sure if it was raptor hearing or not, but I heard water rushing out from somewhere. I turned to walk towards the door next to the one across the narrow hallway from Fang's, Gazzy and Iggy's room—the sound was coming from the boy's bathroom. The door was left slightly ajar, and I could distinctly, clearly, definitely hear the sound of the tap running under high pressure. Fang left the door ajar, probably because he hadn't expected anyone else to be here. I was about to just wait until he came out to ask him why he'd charged back home instead, but then I remembered the last time he stayed in the bathroom for a considerable amount of time.

It was when.. when he'd gotten sick. His penis had gotten all hard and he'd been hot all over, and then the sticky whitish-clear stuff had come out of it. He told me he was fine this morning.. Angel said he was fine.. and he'd seemed better than normal all day today.. I frowned. He wouldn't hide it from me if he got sick again, would he?

I stealthily ran past the bathroom door to the other side of the doorway to get a better view into the bathroom through the space left ajar. I discreetly peeked in to see what he was doing. Privacy wasn't really a priority in the flock. I was the leader.. and having privacy meant hiding things from me.. which was not O.K. in my book. Anyway, besides Fang, the kids haven't yet addressed that issue as a concern. Perhaps it comes with age, cause it was just 4 months ago that I stopped helping Gazzy bathe, so I wouldn't expect Gazzy to advocate for privacy anytime all too soon. Frowning at the thought, I worriedly wondered if I should go back to bathing him and make sure he doesn't grow accustomed to the concept of privacy anytime soon.

Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I peeked in through sliver of light that streamed out of the bathroom window into the hallway. I caught sight of Fang. His elbows were on either sides of the kitchen sink, his arms laying flat on the white marble as his sopping wet hair dripped into the sink. He had closed the streaming tap, and his neck had fallen forward with his head facing the faucet drain. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the belt on his pants was undone. His briefs were down to his knees, but his loose black pants still barely hung on his mid-thighs with the undone belt buckle weighing it down. Fang was breathing roughly, so loud that I could hear it clearly from outside the door. On further inspection, I immediately noticed that his penis was swollen again. I frowned, hard. He wasn't fine.

Suddenly, Fang turned. The sink to his left, he was now facing the toilet bowl adjacent to it. As he took a step forward to stand in front of it, the weight of his belt buckle helped his pants fall down to the white tiled floor with a clanging noise. It bunched up to gather at his ankles. Still breathing roughly, he put his left hand on the wall above the toilet bowl, putting his weight on the wall as he leaned forward over the toilet bowl. With his fingers trembling, his right hand made it's way to his engorged penis hanging around his mid thigh.

"Ugh," he grunted softly, as he squeezed down the length of his penis with his thumb and middle finger. He was applying pressure, err—friction I think he had said?, to his penis like I had last night. His eyes were closed, and a few drops of water fell from his still-wet hair. His breathing shook, sounding uneasy. The arm that he was putting all of his weight on against the wall trembled. His elbow collapsed and his arm he was leaning on bent; his breathing was growing more and more shallow. Fang's whole upper body was trembling, and he was obviously having a hard time supporting himself. He leaned his head down to rest on his extended forearm, still breathing hard. He sounded pained.

I slammed the bathroom door open, incapable of being able to stand watching this any longer. I glared at him, my face betraying me, my expression emotionally strained.

"You're not fine, Fang," I said to him fiercely. His arm still trembling against the wall, he turned his head 90 degrees to his left to look at me. I wasn't sure if the beads of water on his face were from his soaked hair, or just mere sweat. His eyes widened considerably, still leaning against the wall, he looked at me.

"Max, what're you.. doing here?" he asked in a broken voice, surprised to seem me standing there with my face distraught.

"WHY don't you tell me you're not okay Fang? Do you not trust me? WHY DONT YOU TELL ME?" I screamed at him. I could feel tears threatening to fall over. I shook my head hard, successfully making the excess drops of water in my tear ducts fly away instead of falling down onto my face. I looked at him fiercely. He stared right back, his face intense, eyebrows furrowed in conflict. After two long seconds, he turned away from me to look at the hand he was leaning on. He exhaled a large shallow breath, his neck immediately falling forward to look down into the toilet bowl. His hand let go of his throbbing penis and hung at his other side dejectedly. His posture was weak. He was slouching.

I felt my fierce expression soften.. I could see confliction on Fang's face, the frustration, the embarrassment, the pain, the longing, the intensity. It was Fang. No wonder he was like this... I couldn't stop him, or force him to be anything else other than who he was. And it was this same Fang who would always help me up when I'm down, or lost, or crying. I couldn't get rid of any of the things I saw in his face.. but I could help him, I thought.

My face no longer as fierce as it had been when I'd slammed the door open, I walked over to Fang. His head was still down, his right hand hanging limply by his side, his body leaning forward against the wall. His upper body was no longer trembling, but for a millisecond I swore I saw his knees falter in a slight tremble.

I walked over to him. I paused for a second, and then suddenly grabbed his shoulders with my hands, making him face me. His head roughly jerked to the side with the sudden movement, both of his hands hanging dejectedly at his sides. I pressed my palms into his upper shoulders so that he fell back against the wall consecutive to the corner the toilet was placed in. The bowl was to his right now. His head was still down, but through his dark bangs, I saw his eyes look up at me questioningly. His back was leaning against the wall now, the ice-glass bathroom window was about two feet to his left.

"You need to let me help you Fang.." I said to him, my palms still on his shoulders. My voice betrayed me, laced with emotion. I looked up at his dark eyes pleadingly, searchingly.

I let go of his shoulder, and knelt down, still looking up at him. I sat, kneeling in front of him on the cold white tiles of the bathroom floor. He looked down at me sitting on the floor, still standing slumped against the wall. I placed my hand on his upper thighs, on either side of his enlarged penis. My knees were lightly making contact with his toes, his pants gathered at his ankles. I leaned closer to his body, looking up at him. His jaw nearly touched his chest as he quietly looked down at me, his face looked pained.

"Okay," he whispered softly to me. I knew that that simple word of consent constituted him to overcome plagues of defiant willpower to say. I knew he really didn't want to say it.. but he knew he had to.

I looked up at him, relief washing over me. He would let me help him.. assume my role as leader of the flock. I could protect him.

He looked down at me, his eyes dark. I looked back up at him once more, and then tilted my head back down to examine his penis. Last night it had been all dark in his room. Now that it was daylight, standing stark right in front of me, I truly realized how large it was. I saw the hard flesh, engorged pink, the veins underneath the skin. I wrapped both my hands around it, my fingers and thumbs three or four millimeters away from meeting each other. I rubbed it first, remembering Fang's comment last night about the friction. I heard a sharp gasp somewhere above me. I looked up to see Fang still staring down at me, his face intense, and something dark was in his eyes—an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"Are you okay?" I asked frantically, conscious of the sharp gasp he had just made, "I'm sorry!" I apologized furiously. I quickly went to slide my right fist up the entire length, trying to make my thumb touch my fingers, subsequently causing me to squeeze it hard. I had watched him do this himself with two fingers before, so that must be something I could be sure and safe of doing. Fang grunted as I did this, pushing his pelvis forward. I put the hand that had been resting on his upper left thigh on the side of his penis while I slid my right hand onto the top of the curiously bulbous end of his penis.

Speculating it more carefully, the tiny slit on top, I thought, was probably where the whitish stuff was supposed to come out of. Determinedly, I stroked and pulled and twisted the length of his penis harder. I went up and down, both of my hands surrounding his penis, taking turns to go up from the bottom. I heard him grunting and groaning up above me. I looked up, and saw that he was squeezing his eyes shut, small wrinkles could be seen on the edges of his eyelids. His head was no longer looking down, as his neck was thrown back to the wall so that his head was lying flat against the wall. He was alternating his head from side in frustration, his teeth gritted, straining against the cool white bathroom wall tiles as he grunted.

"Ugh.. Max.. Don't stop.." he managed in between groans. I nodded to myself, and continued to slide my fingers up and down. My fingers were getting a bit slippery, saturated, for some unknown reason. Looking closer, I noticed a small amount of clear fluid leak from the tip of the bulbous end of his penis. I was overjoyed, the whitish stuff should be coming out soon, I thought. Then Fang would feel better again.

Momentarily, for just a second, I lost my grip. On the downstroke, my left hand accidentally slid all the way down. The momentum threw my head onto his upper left thigh, my left hand had immediately clamped onto a sac-like area below his throbbing penis to keep my arm from falling through between his legs. I quickly corrected myself, immediately lifting my head up—Fang wasn't all too keen on too much bodily contact, as far as the flock knew. I was about to let go of the sacs my left hand was hanging from when suddenly a rough, callused hand grabbed my wrist tightly. Fang was breathing deep, hard, shallow breaths. He had bent down to grasp my left wrist. I looked up and was met with an intense gaze, eyes scattered as if he was in the midst of a fury of passion. Fang's cheeks were stained red, I was speechless—I'd never seen him so flustered before, and honestly had never known that he was even capable of such facial expressions.

"That.. that felt good." he said to me, looking to my eyes with an intense gaze. Mesmerized at his intensity, I stared back for a second longer before I nodded determinedly. He let go of my wrist and leant back against the wall as I began to massage the sac-like area below his penis, I was rewarded with satisfied groans sounding above me. I continued to slide up and down his penis with my right hand as my left hand pulled and applied pressure to the area beneath. I curiously began to feel the sac-like area harden.

At this point, Fang stopped standing still. He impulsively began to move his pelvis towards me, squirming for more contact. His groans grew louder

"Max... Max... Max, Max, Max, nn—Ugh... Maximum.. Max.. please don't stop, max.." he whispered desperately, in tune with each stroke I gave him. My face felt like it was flaming, I felt hot all over, the way he was saying my name was so.. so.. I blushed. I didn't know what it was.. His voice was deep and gruff, and he was saying my name with such desperation, such need.. I turned my head to the side to avoid looking at him.

He groans were growing louder and louder, the sacs underneath his penis were completely hard by now and he was fidgeting his pelvic region hard in frustration as I continued to go up and down. I took his directions and went harder, faster. It felt like there were two balls inside the loose-skinned sacs that I was holding in my left hand.

"UGH, UGH, MAX, MAX.. THAT.. IT FEELS LIKE.. ALMOST..," he gasped out. I looked up at him. Beads of sweat made their way down the side of his jaw. His adams apple bobbed back up and down the length of his long neck.

He moaned loudly and my fingers suddenly, rapidly became doused in sticky white fluid coming out of the bulbous tip of his penis. I kept on pumping his penis up and down despite the white fluid spattering everywhere in bursts of ejaculation, as it still wasn't becoming soft yet. I felt the hard sacs I had been massaging soften substantially. That's a good sign, I thought to myself. Fang groaned loudly, his knees trembled before they bent a bit, bringing his lower-regions down closer to me. Adjusting to his position, I sat down on my heels to level myself with his still-exploding penis. He was slowly sliding down the cool white tiles of the bathroom wall he had been leaning against. The white fluid was getting all over him—a large amount was splayed on his abdomen, spread all over his thighs, and it had gotten all over the front of my shirt, below my neckline on my chest, as well as all over my neatly folded thighs. The fluid kept squirting out haphazardly, but the stream began to lessen soon enough. Fang slid further down the wall, breathing hard, as his penis grew soft in my hands.

He was sitting down on the cold white tiles of the bathroom floor, his back against the wall. We were facing eachother—his knees up on either side of me, my calves neatly folded beneath my thighs. His now softened penis hung limply in between his raised thighs, just barely an inch away from the edges of my folded knees. His breathing was still harsh, and he sounded immensely tired, I noted worriedly. The elbows sitting on his knees supported his head. He was looking down, only his messy dark head of hair in my line of vision. I looked at him worriedly, he was still breathing hard and still trembling—he was a mess. He wasn't the composed Fang I had always seen him as, he was flustered, tired, trembling, wrought by whatever sickness he had. I felt excess fluid flood into the surface of my eyes, threatening to tip over the edge.. what was wrong with my best friend? What would I do without him? I'd never seen him in such a state before, sitting before me naked, uncomposed, trembling in his own skin, all his vulnerabilities out in the open. I knew he wasn't comfortable with this either. I didn't know what to do. I'd like to say there'd always be a plan, but I really didn't know. Was this some weird side affect of what those white-coats had done to us? What was wrong with him? I gasped brokenly to hold in my breath and turned my head quickly to look away, willing the tears in my eyes to stay in.. I couldn't let him see me cry out in the open, not in sheer daylight. Please, please, I begged my emotions not to betray me. I couldn't let him see me like this. It'd just be us admitting how scared we really were as to what was happening to him.

I felt a hand on my left cheek. Fang gently ran his calloused thumb over my cheekbone, wiping away a strand of the white substance from his penis that I hadn't noticed splattered onto my face. I didn't turn to face him, afraid the tears would fall out. Suddenly, without warning, I felt Fang fall forward onto me. All of his weight fell onto me, his knees no longer up, but now standing up on either side of my lap. My head that'd been turned over my right shoulder, looking away from him, turned to face the front now. I could hear his soft breathing near my ear, his head on my left shoulder. His breathing wasn't harsh and unfocused anymore, he had cooled down, I thought to myself, feeling relieved. I stared at the white-tiled wall of the boy's bathroom that he had been sitting against a moment ago. Slowly, I felt his arms slide around me. His head was tucked into the crook of my neck. I shivered as I felt his lips and the contour of his nose press tightly into my neck. His breathing was still uneven.

"Max.." he quietly whispered into my ear, "Hold me.. for just.. a second.. just.. stay like this.." he said softly in between breaths. I shivered slightly again as I felt his cool breath travel into my left ear. I gently slid my arms up and around his lower back. We sat like that for a while, holding each other tightly against one another on the cold white tiled floor of the bathroom. I felt the tremors throughout his upper body wrack through him. He held me tightly, as if transferring the tremors out through me. We shook together. I closed my eyes. He couldn't see the tears that I had been willing to stay in spill out unashamedly. I rubbed his mid back gently as I felt the tears stream down my face, hugging his unclothed, trembling body tighter to me.

Gradually, his breathing slowed. It became more even. The tremors in his torso halted. We stayed like that for a moment longer, just reveling in the feeling of one other so close to each other. Fang had always been touchy about physical contact...but I guess that thats just what the flock had simply assumed from his behavior.

Fang let go of me. His head leaned back, leaving my neck feeling empty and cold. He leaned forward a bit, his face close to my own. I could feel his breath on my face. Sliding both of his hands up either sides of neck to my cup my jaw, his dark eyes searched for something particular in my own brown ones. He searched my face, but eventually came back up to my eyes again. His face was masked of all emotion yet again.

"Thank you, Max," he said to me in a calm, normal voice.

I looked at him again. I frowned.

"Fang.. you need to tell me when somethings wrong with you.. so that I can help you." Fang stared at me for a moment longer, searching my face and then let go, looking away. He stood up and swiftly pulled his pants and briefs up to his hips. Stepping around me, he turned away. I twisted around to look at his back as he was doing his belt buckle. I stood up, facing his back.

"Fang, you need to tell me," I told him in a solid, stern, no-joking, voice. Leader Max was back. Fang turned around to look at me. His pants were on and his belt buckled, but his shirt was still downstairs. He looked at me seriously, his eyes were asking me to place myself in his situation. I frowned even deeper.

"I know you don't want to.. but you have to." I said to him. He continued to look at me, his face expressionless. My eyes traveled down to his pelvic region, to his crotch. He watched my gaze travel down.

"Okay," he said quietly. His face was unreadable, but I knew that he was not happy to consent. He turned around and walked out of the bathroom into the carpeted hallway.

Feeling completely drained, I sat back down on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, my knees jutting up. Leaning down, I massaged my forehead for the eightieth time today, sighing quietly.

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Thanks for all the reviews guys! You guys made me so happy that I wrote another lemon!

Ahh.. remember, its not that I'm putting up an ultimatum.. its just that REVIEWS make me A HAPPY AUTHOR.

HAPPY AUTHORS mean HAPPY WRITING! =D

HAPPY WRITING means WRITING!!!

lol.. okay, thats enough, I should stop. Anywho..

Many of you have been asking me to "make the same thing happen to max!!"

but I've got alot planned for this story (its going to be thick, and heated, angsty and kinky haha), but see the thing is

**at the moment** (because don't worry, the story will definitely progress) the main plot is that Fang is getting erections and a) not only does not know what they are but b) he doesnt not know what to do with them. c) Max is very worried for him, because she doesnt know what they are either

REMEMBER that they've never had anything like Sex Ed. Fang doesn't know about jerking off, but as you can see, he's getting the idea.. But they still don't know what all that stuff means.

Anyhow, addressing the issue about the same thing happening to max. Well, girls don't really get erections.. It's not like, an immediate physical problem.. She can't get all sweaty and pained over being sheerly horny, now can she? Fang can, because erections are something more physical, and it affects his day-to-day life more than Max. Also, testosterone has alot more potential drive than estrogen does.

And the plot of this story is not that Max and the flock are going through heat.. Its that they simply don't know societal norms. They don't know what erections are, and that it is not appropriate for 13-year-olds to be engaging in sexual activity. (somehow the fact that _they dont know_, driven by instincts and neccesity, pure passion and pain, is the concept i'm driven by).

HMMM.. don't worry. This story is rated M for a reason. Things will definately go far.. This story will be very elaborate. =)


	8. So Why?

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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**Chapter Eight**: So, Why?

Closing the laundry basket shut, I turned around with every intention of finding Fang. I had cleaned myself up and changed into a new set of clothes; the last set had gotten the white mucus-like fluid all over it.

I climbed up the stairs to the second floor from the basement. Fang casually walked past me into his room with nothing but a towel around his neck and pair of loose, dark pajama pants on. Judging from the steam coming out from the side of the bathroom door, he seemed to have just showered. At least I hadn't had to look for him. A thought suddenly struck me and I growled.

"Fang, put some clothes on," I said irritatedly to him. That was a flock rule. Iggy, Fang, Gazzy, Nudge, and Angel needed to maintain some level of civil behavior. I refused to let them walk around the house unhygienic, unbathed or half-dressed. We were genetically engineered human-avian hybrids. Not hobos.

He turned around, his hands pulling down on the towel around his neck. He looked at me with a bored expression on his face, casually bringing up one end of the towel around his neck up to his head to rub his hair dry. I noticed the fair bush of dark hair beneath his armpits. I absentmindedly wondered when he'd started to grow hair there too. I had thought that it was just me.. It suddenly struck me that perhaps that was something that happened once you got older.

"It's not like theres anything you haven't seen, Maximum Ride." he said to me, smirking. There was a mischievous grin on his face, his dark eyes were looking at me with a playful expression that I couldn't quite describe. My face felt red, hot. I could feel my cheeks heating up for the fifth time today. I turned around quickly, so that my back was facing him. Folding my arms, I tried my best to sound as cross as possible.

"Y-you're setting a bad example for the kids. You can't walk around half-dressed. Y-you should get dressed in the bathroom after you shower.. bring your change of clothes with you in there," I said to him, wincing at every stutter that came out of my mouth. I was expecting a half-witted retort, but was confusingly greeted with silence. Suddenly a low voice elegantly seemed to sing into my ear.

"But the kids aren't here now.. are they?" Fang asked me from behind. His lips were dangerously close to ear. I would've shivered if I hadn't been so tensed up. I mentally shuddered, planning to spin around and scold him, but he was gone by the time I had turned, only the slam of his bedroom door reverberating behind him.

I rolled my eyes exasperatedly. Fang, Fang, Fang. Superlatively irritating as always.

I went down into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. Fang came down to the den 10 minutes later, dressed in a fresh set of clothes.

"Let's go," I said to him. "I left Iggy in charge.. I wonder if the lawns' already been burnt to a crisp," I said jokingly, although a large overwhelming part of me was seriously worried about that. Fang nodded good-naturedly, closing the front door shut behind us. Fang and I flew the short 10 minute distance to the picnic spot we had picked out. A dark shadow was cast over the sloping hill, the sun was beginning to set, the weather getting a bit cooler. I sighed quietly with relief as I couldn't feel any symptoms of my recurring headache underneath the darkening sky.

Fang and I landed gently—his was obviously more graceful than my own, but whatever. We walked the few yards of distance to the blanket and were greeted with the heartwarming sight of our flock. They were all sleeping peacefully, except for Angel, who was sitting up tying together clovers to make a necklace. She looked up at us once we got closer and smiled happily, yawning.

Nudge was curled up with her head pillowed on Iggy's stomach and left hip. Gazzy was exactly like how I'd last seen him, splayed out on the grass haphazardly, except for the fact that he was snoring gently now. Iggy was sleeping flat on the ground, face up, with his head resting on his arms behind his head, Nudge's head pillowed on his left side and stomach. Angel yawned again, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

I looked at Fang sympathetically. He smiled gently back. They had had a great day.. and for the most part, so did I.. for the _most _part—yes, that includes the fact that I got Fang to listen to me. The flock was completely pooped.

Fang grunted as he lifted Iggy up over one of his shoulders. He cradled Nudge's form in his other arm. I gently rearranged Gazzy before I picked him up and carried him in my arms, his knees and neck supported by the insides of my elbows. We left the picnic blanket under the tree—its not like anybody would be able to find the spot and steal it anyway—and started to walk back to the E-shaped house. Angel sleepily followed us, her wings subconsciously carrying her, with her feet limply hovering about a foot from the ground. Fang and I walked in utmost silence, to keep from waking them, Fang occasionally grunting, rearranging Iggy on his shoulder. It definitely wasn't easy to support two people—one of which being someone taller than you. But while Iggy was taller than him, Fang definitely had more brute strength and muscle. Jeb had bought him a set of weights for lifting for his 11th birthday, but I don't think he'd put them to any use until just last year.

The intrinsic silence encapsulating us was beautiful. Taking our time, we walked slowly back to the house, carrying the various members of the flock. The sky had gone completely dark by then and fireflies were surrounding us. They were scattering about, flying everywhere, their lighted posteriors lazily making their way around the lawn.

We got back to the house at around ten-thirty. I gave Gazzy to Fang to put away as I went to make a snack for Angel before she headed to bed. Just as I was about to turn around to hand her a peanut butter-jelly sandwich and sliced apples with BBQ dipping sauce on the side of the plate, I heard light snoring behind me. I turned around and found Angel already dozed off on the kitchen counter, her head resting on top of her folded arms. My face softened looking at her innocent childlike demeanor. I set the plate down and picked Angel up, putting her over my right shoulder and carrying her upstairs.

I gently pushed open the creaky door of the room she and Nudge shared with my right knee. Light streamed into their room through the open door from the window in my own bedroom. My face softened as I watched Fang tuck Nudge into the covers on her bed. His face looked gentle, a demeanor he would never normally show, as he brushed stray strands of hair off her forehead, then moving to run his hand down the side of her cheek lovingly. He stared at her for a moment more, and then got up from his kneeling position. He turned around and seemed surprised to see me there, although his face did not betray him, staying perfectly emotionless. It took skill and experience to read Fang the way I could. He and I understood more about one another then we probably understood about our own selves. It was a pretty scary thought, in retrospect, to think that someone knows you better than you yourself do. But that was the essential concept of trust, I suppose.

Fang stood by the door and watched me undress Angel and change her into her pajamas and tuck her into bed. I gave her a kiss on the forehead, brushing the hair out of her face, and then turned to Nudge to give her goodnight kiss as well. I stood up, taking one last look at them before I joined Fang at the door, closing it softly behind me. Leaning against their door in the hallway, I turned around and looked up at Fang.

He knew what I was thinking. He put a hand on my shoulder and looked down at me.

"You're doing a great job Max," he said to me. There was something in his voice that radiated reassurance, but if you had heard him, you would think me delusional. It wasn't obvious, but it was there, and it was for me to hear especially. I could feel whatever he was trying to convey to me even if he didn't say a word. I looked up at him, I would've smiled brilliantly if only I had had the energy to. But he understood what I meant. He quietly said "Goodnight," to me as he walked into his room and shut the door behind him. I heard the click of his lock reverberate into the quiet hallway. I walked forward to the end of the hallway and went into my own room, immediately collapsing onto my bed. Today had definitely been a tiring day.

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My eyes opened wide, a deep gasp escaping my throat. I sat up straight in my bed, clutching my chest, trying to catch my breath. I turned to my right to look out the window. Mentally, I measured the time to be around 3. I turned back, looking down my lap, covered with a thin comforter. I had dreamed that Jeb had come back. He'd come back and everyone was happy, ecstatic. There was a spark, a light in the atmosphere around our house with his presence in my dream. He spun Angel and Nudge around in the air, made wooden car toys for Gazzy, taught Iggy some new recipes, and Fang looked alert, alive, happy.. excited, when Jeb spoke to him. It was just me. Jeb ignored me, completely. He stared at me disgustingly... as if he knew that I had been trying to erase his presence from our house completely. He interrogated me. That I should be thankful to who had saved my life.. that I was an ungrateful bitch. He slapped me. He hated me. He loved everyone except me.

I swallowed hard, as if willing the dream to go away as well. I knew there'd be no use in trying to go back to sleep, not with such thoughts spinning around my head. I got out of my bed, quietly tiptoeing out into the hallway. I stopped in front of the second door on the right side of the hallway from my room at the absolute end. The first door was the linen closet. The second door was Fang's room.

I put my ear to the side of his door, but alas, failed to hear even a breath. I tapped my fist against the door once and then walked back to my room. Opening my window, I jumped out into the cold air of early-spring. Giving myself a boost with a flap of my wings, I landed on the roof with muffled clatter. I climbed the slant to the top. The flattened top had a width of a foot. Gingerly sitting on it, I pulled my knees up and hugged them around my chest, shivering in the cold. I surveyed the area as I waited.

10 minutes later, I heard the shifting of clothes and a shuffle of calloused feet on bare boards. I turned to my right to see Fang sitting there. How is he not cold..?, I thought to myself. He was wearing just another simple nondescript black t-shirt. I was sitting here freezing my butt off wearing long sleeved flannel pajamas.

Nevermind, I thought. It's Fang. I turned back to face forward. We sat there for a while in comfortable silence. Times like these are what made him my closest friend. Without saying a word, it felt like we were having an entire conversation, sharing the most intimate details of our thoughts. The cold air began to feel good, as if it was washing everything off of me.

I was no longer shivering, a certain numbness washed over me. After a long time.. about 40 minutes perhaps, I turned my head over my shoulder to look at him. He was sitting about 3 feet away from me, his chin on his folded arms, propped up on his knees. I turned back. Staring straight ahead, I casually asked him, "How're you feeling?" although the statement itself I took great caution in saying.

"Okay. And you?" he drawled out after a moment of silence. He hadn't gotten what I'd meant by that question. If he had understood the implications of that question, then, well, he'd obviously ignored it.

"Bad dream." I replied quietly

"Oh."

"It was about Jeb."

I looked at him from the corners of my eyes, watching him nod slowly. He blinked once. I turned back.

"Thanks." I said to him quietly. Getting up in the middle of the night to sit here for 45 minutes..

"Anytime," he said, emotionless.

Opening my mouth, I was about to say something, when he cut in.

"Max. Don't tell the kids."

I turned to face him completely. I wondered what he was talking about. Tell them about the dream? Why the heck would I do that? I stared at him for a few minutes, the moon being the only source of light, shining onto our roof. I saw him look at me from the corner of his eye for two seconds before he went back to looking out forward.

"About.. about me." I understood what he was saying now. I stayed quiet, unanswering.

"About what happens to me.." he went on to say, assuming that I still didn't understand. I opted to stay quiet for a moment longer, wondering what else he'd continue to say.

"I.. don't know for sure why it's happening, so.. don't tell them, Max. Just don't. Not until I find out." he said solidly. That had been a seriously long speech coming from Fang. I commended him and decided to stop torturing him and simply answer.

"Okay," I said to him. "I won't tell them, Fang. Not until we figure this out." I noticed his eyebrow twitch at the word "we," but he held back from saying anything. He had consented. He knew he had. There was nothing more he could say to stop me from getting involved.

I need to figure this out, I thought. For Fang's sake.

"Was yesterday the first time?" I asked him quietly.

He shifted while I was asking him the question. Fang's face was emotionless, apathetic. He didn't turn. I could feel his attitude of stubborn defiance radiating off of him from three feet away. He was thinking that although he'd allowed me to help him, it didn't constitute allowing me to interrogate him.

Max scowled.

"It happened again today.. So maybe its like, a once-a-day thing," she started pondering out loud. He'd have to speak up at _some _point or another, she thought. Might as well try and provoke him.

"It's not," he said quietly. Max stared at him, waiting for him to continue. She hadn't expected him to respond this swiftly.

"It's been happening since the end of December," he said quietly. Max looked startled.

"How.. what.. What have you been doing since then? When?" she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed before. She felt like a failure. She looked at him expectantly, her eyes widened with frustration. It was already mid-April. 3 whole months?

"It.. It's been happening at night.. Like I'd wake up in the morning, and my pants, my sheets, it'd be all over it. Everywhere, it'd just be wet and all sticky. At night, it'd just come out by itself. Automatically," he said offhandedly. He was staring straight ahead, his cheeks resting resting on his palms on either side. He said it as if he were bored. He still refused to look at me. I gulped deeply.

"So.. that's why you've been doing your own laundry," I stated.

"Yup," he said simply.

"Why.. why do you think it happens in the daytime now? And not automatically?" I asked him curiously. Fang paused for a moment before he spoke.

"I dunno," he said quickly. He then swiftly turned around, got up, and hopped down, stepping onto his window guard. I barely caught sight of his bare feet hitting the metal rods before he disappeared.

"See you in the morning," he said from somewhere in the distance, almost like an afterthought.

I stared at the spot he was just in a mere second ago.

I rubbed my arms, the chill suddenly getting to me, before I ducked down and went back into my room to sleep out the few hours I had left before I had to get up.

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Thanks for all the reviews! I wouldntve updated if you guys didnt make me so happy. =)

I like being happy.. reviews make me happy.. chapters seem to make YOU happy! Do you see the transitive property of all this? reviews=FASTER, QUICKER, BETTER UPDATES!

lol, so anywho. about the authors note from last time. DO NOT GET ME WRONG.

THERE WILL BE MAX-NESS IN HERE.

I just **really** dont want this to turn into a mindlessly horny MR fic, like so many out there.

If you haven't noticed this is the 8th chapter, and the story has literally only spanned TWO days. Do you see the pace I'm working on this with?

And like, I write my chapters way ahead of time. Like this chapter was written when I first posted the story. So.. at the moment.. I'm writing the future chapters.. and trust me, the lemons get ALOT more heated. :]

That taken into consideration, I promise you that my readers WILL be satisfied, but you all need to wait a bit for it all.. And anyway, whats more important? Reading random misplaced, irrelevant scenes about max getting turned on, or reading the _process_ of Max getting turned on? OVERALL, its alot more sexually stimulating for me to write the latter :0

Annnd, the plot will progress. This may be a horny M-rated fanfic, but its still a story, not sheer sex, however much it may revolve around sex.. haha.

catch ya on the flip side!! =D


	9. Angel Tries To Help

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Nine**: Angel Tries To Help

"Please Max?" Angel asked. I took another spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed with a gulp. Then I took another one.

"Yeah, Max, it's even MORE beautiful out today, and you know that normally doesn't happen because it's like spring and all and didn't Jeb once say that in spring its supposed to rain a lot, and yeah, so like its so sunny and its only 8, so like we'll have lots of time to do whatever and I promise that like yesterday, we totally won't like...." That was Nudge, as I'm sure you may have already presumed.

I took another bite before I put my spoon down onto the plate with a loud, reverberating clang. I let out an exasperated sigh. I was already fighting the drowsiness coming over me.. trying hard to stay awake—I had just gone to bed three and half hours ago.. My mind was all muddled.. They were asking to picnic again today. The weather _was_ good, I thought.. Nice to take a nap under. I mentally shook my head again, trying to organize my thoughts. No. Picnicking meant allowing them to fly beyond the cliffs again. No. Bad. Not allowed. Too much freedom. Might get caught. But the weather was _gorgeous_, really..

"URGH," I exclaimed at the table, holding my head into my hand. I looked up to see Fang raise an eyebrow at me, a tiny smirk on his face. My face felt red. Leader not supposed to groan. No groaning for leader. No groaning for Max. No groan.

I turned my head, to see the face of Nudge, whom was sitting next to Fang, on the other side of the table from me.

Not a very good idea.

Bambi eyes.

URGH. This is how I got stuck letting them go on a picnic two days in a row..

"Max, think of it this way. I still haven't learned how to do the side-swerve, right?" Angel said to me, overhearing my thoughts. We were in midflight to the area we had picnicked yesterday. Angel had flown up to take Fang's place in our V-formation, successfully screwing it up. Iggy was on my other side, lugging a large napsack of food he had prepared before we had set off.

I thought to myself critically. That was true. She'd have to learn the side-swerve eventually anyway. My mind grew more at ease. At least we were going to get _a_ chore done today. Not as much as I had planned for today.. but ah well.

We landed around the large tree we had picnicked under yesterday. The large red and white checkered blanket was still there, stamped down with large toolshed nails by Iggy the previous day. It hadn't blown away in the night wind. Iggy immediately sat down to survey any damage to the food that may have occurred midflight. In the distance I heard Gazzy hooting. He had not landed near the blanket, but had flown out straight past the cliffs, doing some cartwheels midair. I sat down on the blanket, leaning against the brown bark of the large trunk of the tree. Being morning, the shining sun threw down a large calming shaded area beneath the side of the tree which the blanket was on. Relaxing. I leaned my head back, thinking about this and that.. subconsciously dozing of with the sounds of Iggy getting lunch ready soothingly bustling in the background.

I opened one eye to check up on Nudge before I completely fell into a slumber to make up for the rooftop discussion this morning. Nudge was with Angel in a small patch of flowers, down the minuscule steep slope of a hill the large tree was on. They were picking flowers enjoyably. Relaxing at the sight of their innocent behavior, I relaxed completely, finally catching up on that sleep. Didn't worry about Fang. He was probably perched ontop a branch on the same tree dozing off himself. I knew him. He was like a sleeping kitten half the time--despite common belief, he was definitely not an insomniac.

I yawned, opening my eyes wearily. A beam of sunlight had hit me in the face directly, arousing me from my nice nap. I stretched my arms, working out the kinks, surveying the area. Feeling a heavy weight on me, I looked down to see Iggy, his head pillowed ontop of my knees, my legs having been extended on the blanket. He looked up at me directly. A normal person would not have been able to tell he was blind with the accuracy and intensity of his eyes. He chomped on his sandwich ostentatiously.

"Whazzup, doc?" He said, crumbs splattering from his mouth. I grinned at him, laughing, and feeling very very awake after my well-needed nap. I heard a rustle in the tree above me, and saw Fang a nanosecond later, crouched over the tray of about 65 sandwiches Iggy had set out, his knees bent, leaning over the selection and picking one out. The sunlight must've woken him up too. It was around noon now, I measured, looking at the sun. It no longer cast a shadow completely over the blanket, explaining why I had woken up.

Angel came over to me and put her arms around my neck, hugging me, and then handing me a sandwich. She had an array of flowers all over her—her arms, her neck, her hair, her ankles, her wrist, her waist, her clothes. I looked over at Nudge. Same.

"Thank you, Angel. So what did you guys do this morning?" I asked them, despite the fact that it was apparent.

"We picked flowers, but I found some purple ones that looked SO pretty, but then I touched them and they like, oh my gawsh, like frickin bit me, I was like, totally thought that plants didn't bite other stuff, so I was like totally surprised...." Nudge went on.

"I FOUND A BUNCH OF STUFF" the Gasman cut in with a huge grin on his face. He looked quite pleased with himself, stuffing his face with three sandwiches at a time. I looked over to him. He was sitting outside of the blanket, on the grass. Thankfully too, because he was covered in mud from head to toe. I shook my head exasperatedly.

I finished my fifth sandwich, before a thought had just struck me. I had to remind Fang to teach Angel the sideswerve. It was already around one.

"Hey Fang, you should teach Angel the side-swerve today. The conditions are perfect, barely any wind." I said to him. He glanced up at me mid-bite and nodded his head compliantly.

At least he didn't put up a fight. He tends to take a while to get awake.

"NUDGE NUDGE NUDGE YOU WANNA RACE?!?!" Gazzy asked enthusiastically, remembering what I had mentioned him yesterday about competing with his superior peers.

Nudge shrugged indifferently.

"Fine, but you can't fart in my face, thats like so low, and like totally not fair because like it really does stink!!" she expressed adamantly.

The Gasman nodded eagerly, before pulling her arm forcefully off the blanket by the wrist and dragging her to make a running take-off. I could hear her screaming in the distance angrily: "BUT I DIDN'T FINISH MY SANDWICH!!! URGH GAZZY!!"

The weight on my knees shifted, as Iggy reached over his head to grab another sandwich off of the slowly diminishing tray. He put his head back on my knees probably after he had gotten one, chewing slowly, taking his time. There was something on his face that made me feel extra-wary of him. He totally was planning something.. and totally wanted something from me to do it. I squinted at him suspiciously before looking up. Fang asked Angel if she was done, and they were now just about to start the lesson. The two stood up on the blanket, brushing the crumbs off of their laps, before they stepped outside to about 15 yards away on the green lawn. I sat there, with Iggy's head on my lap, watching them while casual conversing with him.

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Angel ran over to me, her cheeks stained a rosy red, her face flushed after an hour of hardcore technical flight maneuvering. She collapsed on my lap, hugging my hips, chattering away excitedly, albeit incoherently. I smiled inwardly, waiting for her to recover from her adrenaline rush and repeat everything in a corrigible abstract.

While Angel heaved and spluttered excitedly, I looked up to see Fang walking towards the picnic blanket, up the last portion of the small hill. His hands were relaxedly slouched into his pockets. I watched him walk towards me, his eyes were on mine and I saw him flashing me a handsome grin once he had gotten close enough for me to see it. It was one of those grins that made your heart skip a beat. His face, too, was flushed a varying shade of red; I could see the energy radiating off of him despite his silent demeanor.

Fang sat down at the edge of the blanket, his legs bent out over the grass. He leaned back on his palms and shook the few drops of perspiration out of his hair. He sighed loudly, looking out into the clear blue sky.

Nudge had been right. The weather today certainly _was_ spectacular. My arms around Angel's chest, sitting on my lap, I too, looked up at the same clear sky. Iggy was napping, his head leaning against the outer side of my left thigh. Light snores sounded from him.

Angel took a large, overwhelmingly deep breath and then let it out. I looked down.

"Now tell me ALL that, in english now, honey." I said to her. She smiled back, happily.

"I totally got it this time!! I can do it perfectly.." she said excitedly. She frowned for a nanosecond. "Well, _almost _perfectly, because I still can't get the hang of tilting down my downy feathers at the tips to make a strike through the wind.." she wrinkled her chin, pouting at her own confession.

"Don't worry, she can still do it better than you can," Fang interjected smoothly, much to my annoyance. He was still looking up at the sky, while chugging down a gallon of gatorade.

I wrinkled my nose at him, throwing him a dirty look to his back. Angel giggled.

"I saw that you know.." Fang said during a breath in between chugs. I rolled my eyes.. not that he could _actually_ see it, but still.

Fang screwed the cap of the gallon back on after he had emptied it with a loud sigh, and tossed it to the side. He then leaned back onto the blanket, resting his head on his arms, folded behind his head. He kept looking back out into the sky.

I looked up too, Angel on my lap, Iggy leaning on my side. A moment of silence passed over us, Angel began munching on a sandwich. The silence was effervescent, a beautiful moment of peace between the two of us.

"There's so much out there Max.." he said casually. Immediately, my eyebrows furrowed in response to that statement. He was bringing _that_ up again. He wanted to explore. To get out and see the world. He wanted to let Angel see the town below the cliffs. He wanted to let Nudge help him shop and see the supermarket and all the stores. He wanted to take Gazzy to a public park and let him play with other kids his age. He wanted.. he wanted.. he wanted things that were **not **sensible for the likes of US.

I kept quiet. He wasn't even worth an argument on this subject.. and why destroy such a lovely day? Angel hummed approvingly at my thoughts. I rolled my eyes..

Having finished her sandwich, Angel crawled off of my lap, and jumped onto Fang's torso, laid out on the blanket, his legs on the grass. If he was a normal 13-year-old boy, he'd shout in surprise or grunt in pain at the sudden impact of 56-pounds of 5-year old birdkid on him. But he wasn't, cause he was Fang. I thought I saw his eyes open a bit wider at Angel's sudden pounce, but perhaps I was imagining it. Ah well. Who cares.

"Careful, Angel.." I warned her absentmindedly. I was inwardly relieved that she had done so, perhaps secretly hoping that he had gotten hurt in retribution for bringing up a topic he knew I did not approve of.

"Aww, sorry Fang," she said, sounding like she didn't mean it at all. Fang got up from lying down on the picnic blanket, leaning up 50 degrees to look at her, his weight resting on his palms behind him. Her hands were folded behind his neck, but she let go of them to throw her weight on him, putting her arms around him.

"THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR TEACHING ME TODAY!!" she said earnestly. Fang blinked for a moment, and then he closed his eyes and began to chuckle. The noise was music to our ears. I felt Iggy shift next to me. Iggy's form lazily got up to lean on one propped up elbow, his head still beside me. He immediately turned to face where Angel was sitting on Fang's torso.

"My dear nonexistant god/scientist/creator-guy, am I hearing Fang laughing? Someone smack me," Iggy said, deliberately making his voice sound extra loopy. His voice was slurred lazily in the first place, having just gotten up from his nap.

The laughter slowly died out. Angel leaned back, falling into his lap, to look at him, her hands now folded behind his neck. She smiled endearingly, obviously delighted by the laughter that had graced our ears for a precious near-minute. Iggy grinned.

Fang looked down at her, smoothing her hair back. After a moment, the laugh lines around his mouth relaxed and the crinkles around his eyes smoothened out. His face returned to being devoid of any emotion again, as usual. He looked at her for a moment longer before he raised an eyebrow at her and began to speak, "You are most certainly welcome. But, Angel, you should.."

Angel suddenly smiled again, her eyes closing as her mouth expanded greatly on her face. She leaned forward again to put her arms around his neck. She was frighteningly small in size to him. She took the bulk of her weight off of him, and put her small 5-year old knees on either side of his hips on the blanket. She reached up with her arms to hug his neck, but she was literally just hanging on to it, her arms stretching to reach up his torso. Her knees having slipped off of Fang's lap, she was having trouble hugging him properly, as her arms could not extend to fully cover surround his neck. Fangs face still remained emotionless. He took her hands off of her back, where they had been, and put them beside him on either sides, refraining from touching her completely.

"Angel, I think you really need to.." Fang trailed off, as he suddenly furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at her. The look on his face as he tilted his chin down to face her was a mixture between threatening and confusion. His eyes grew dark as he looked down at her, her legs wrapped around his waist. Something significant and unclear passed between them. She looked back up, earnest. She was speaking to him in her thoughts. He didn't like what she was saying.. or, he was confused. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused at the exchange they seemed to be having.

"Hey Max, could you get me a juice box?" Iggy asked. I nodded, not that he could see it, and handed him the last one left in the open pack. I looked up at the sky, mentally measuring the time, estimating that it'd be soon that Gazzy and Nudge would get back from exploring the valley and stream. They'd be thirsty once they got back. I reached over into the cooler and got out two unopened boxes of Caprisun and Hi-C in bulk, one for each of them. I began working on tearing the dumb plastic wrapping off of them, so that it'd be easier for them to down into their parched throats. Why the heck did they have to make these things to difficult. "Arghh," I mumbled softly as I ripped the Hi-C box in frustration. Ah well. Whatever it takes to get the juice out. It's all food in the end, isn't it? I shrugged, giving up, and following to do the same to the Caprisun box. I laid out the boxes neatly on the opposite edge of the blanket, ready for when Nudge and the Gasman would get back, heaving and faces flushed all over again.

I turned around to check up on Iggy. He was sipping a grape juice box while spooning out some peanut butter from a jar, refilling the empty sandwich tray, and cutting up the stacks of bread into triangles for ease of eat. (Yes, I just made that up. Deal with it).

I looked over from Iggy to the opposite edge of the blanket. I blinked a few times in confusion. Fang's head was down, his knees wavering, sitting up, his weight was balanced on his palms, his arms propped up behind him on the blanket. On top of him, Angel's hands was on his shoulders. I caught her drop herself onto his lap from a near-standing position, and then get back up again to drop down again. She suddenly frowned a tiny bit, and then shook her head questioningly at him, as if asking him a question. He didn't seem to be responding, his head darkly looking down. The only thing animate about him were those quivering knees. She hmphed softly in what seemed to be irritation, and then instead of dropping down on him, she sat down distinctly onto his lap, but now just started to bounce on it. Fang's elbows, supporting him behind his back, faltered. He leaned back an inch.

I got up, kneeling now, a juicebox absentmindedly in hand.

Angel still bouncing up and down on his lap diligently, I heard Fang's voice call out to me. I noticed Iggy looking in their directly very curiously. He was raising an eyebrow at the constant rhythm and noise he was hearing from the area.

"Max," he said without looking up. I turned from the juices, to look at Fang, swiveling around completely. "Yeah?" I called out to him in response. Fang paused for a moment longer, as if taking a deep breath.

"I need some help here." Fang said it so quietly that a normal person would definitely not have been able to hear it.

I dropped the juicebox in my hand, looking over at him urgently. It suddenly registered to me the implications of what Angel was doing.

"Um, Angel, honey, Fang isn't feeling so well right now, I think you should stop," I said to her, swiftly walking over.

She stopped bouncing, sitting on his lap with her hands resting on his shoulders, and looked up at me, frowning, "But, but.." she trailed off. She didn't finish, as she saw the urgent dead-set, serious, no-kidding-around look on my face. I was not kidding here.

She got off of him, moving to the side. I heard Fang let out a hard breath. I knelt down next to him, and helped him get up.

"Iggy, give Gazzy and Nudge the juiceboxes if they get here. Don't worry, we'll be right back. Fang is still pretty parched from his flight, so uhh we're going to the stream.. I need to collect some more water anyway, I think we're running out," I called out to Iggy behind me.

"Let's go somewhere else," I whispered to Fang, my arm hovering behind his shoulder in case he needed the support. He grunted in agreement. His head was still down, his neck bent forward, his dark bangs covering his eyes. I steered us to area past the side of the blanket, rather than down the hill, where the Flock tended to explore and play. To the side was a thick woody area. The flock didn't play around here because it was impossible to fly through the trees, and I didn't let them go near here because I couldn't keep track of them if I were to fly over. We walked a steady pace towards a cluster of trees, my face frowning in worry the entire time. While half of me was relieved that he had actually told me, asking for help, the other half was worried because of the same reasons I'd ever and always be worried over him. He was Fang.

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**THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS GUYS. I'll address a few comments + questions in appreciation.**

**#1. **_Omg make Max get her period!! U shuld make her get her period or something. Did Max get her period yet? I think you need to like make Max get her period srsly omg. _

1a. With all due respect to you guys, I am not dumb. I _obviously_ wrote the summary for this story. "Adolescence" encompasses everything that it means. Erections, periods, hormones, hair. I know what "adolescence" means and have _every_ intention of making this story WHOLE and THOROUGH.. okies? Does this answer your question?

1b. That being said, kindly take into consideration the pace in which I'm writing this story. This is **chapter 9**, and thus far we've gone through** 2 days and a morning**. O___o

1c. SO KEEP FOLLOWING THE STORY!! THERES ALOT COMING SOON! I'LL TRY TO MAKE IT WORTH THE WAIT ! Would you rather I just throw in random sexual situations and trivialities? Would'nt it be just a _bit_ too _conveniently coincidental_ if I were to introduce the concept of periods and such the DAY after Max finds out about Fang getting erections? I really don't want to throw shit in randomly. To be honest, I'm not even sure if I know _how_ to do stuff like that. Things need to develop in my head, and then they can seep through my fingers satisfied. Sort of like fanfics where they have mindless sex. I don't get how authors can manage to write like that. Hullo? virgins? =.= The characters in my story are especially delicate in this situation because they are ONLY 13. And I'm aware of that moral ethic that constitutes making Max and the Flock a few years older in M-rated fics. Everyone knows that its just not appropriate for 14-year-olds to have sex, which is why people age them in their fics. Well, thats sort of the entire point of my story. They _are_ 13. Its the premise of the story. If I were to do something rash like that, I'd destroy the whole point of it. O__o Then where would we be left? I'd seem like such a child-molester, _despite the fact that I may or may not be younger than them_.

1d. I will not answer the question of if Max has gotten her period yet.

1e. Keep following the story, and you'll find out! Like I said before, I have this story planned out. If I were to rush in a concept like menses, it'd be such a shameful waste of a topic with such a large amount of potential. Especially in a story like this one, I could expand on it tons. I want to explore the story and all related concepts, if you know what I mean.

1f. Since you guys are so good to me =D I'll give you a hint. The second arc (as in, I mean a different overlying plot; currently the overlying plot of this arc is that Max and Fang don't know what erections are), will be coming in rather soon, and will have Max and Fang being a bit more knowledgeable. I know some of you guys are sort of getting tired of the plot in this arc where theyre all clueless. I can't tell you what I'm planning though, cause that'd ruin the story! But in the space_ in between_ the second arc and the first arc, more questions about Max will be answered. No, she is not an unfeeling handjob machine. She too, has feelings. Will be explained soon!!

1g. I seriously didn't want to go into Max's internal feelings so soon, but seriously you guys have really been pushing me to do it. O__o So yesh. Keep reading, cause this story will definately have _every_thing. You won't have a question or request left by the end of it. You will be satisfied, perhaps mortified. Who knows?

**#2.**_ In your last authors note you said that you write chapters in advance. Why does it take you such a long time to update? Like seriously, you have all of the chapters, why don't you just post them up?!_

2a. Well the first answer is obvious. I began writing this story, not for reviewers, but for myself. I was just bored and I thought it'd be interesting.

2b.** Note that this is my first fanfic. Ever.** I hadn't started out writing for you guys, but as I read these reviews, it makes me want to write more and more because I have an audience now. At first, I began to write because I was bored, and for myself, scribbling away on MSword.

2c. Why don't I post all the chapters up at the same time? Because I like getting feedback. Once I feel like I've gotten enough actual advice, compliments, criticism, requests, questions, comments, I feel energized. I feel like I know WHAT to write about, it gets me focused. Ideas start spinning in my head on how to continue the story. I'm not an author who puts up ultimatums, like "update after 30 reviews only," because I'm not writing for publicity. I'm writing to form an actual _story_. I'm really happy you guys like this story so far, but even if you guys didn't, I'd still keep writing, for myself if for anyone. Forming a cohesive story is an art. =)

2d. I said that I have chapters written in advance, but every time I post up a chapter, I fall less and less "in advance." Why is this so? Because I write in BULK. Which means one day I'll sit down and write 3 chapters in a row. But I might not write again until 4 or 5 weeks later. By that time the chapters I have in advance will be all used up. I cant really focus on a story and keep track of where I am or what my incentives are for the characters if I space everything out and do it, say, every night. I can't write _half_ a chapter, or _half_ of an event or occurance, the same way I can't write random shit in the middle. So writing alot of chapters in bulk in advance really helps me. If I were to update every time a chapter gets done, you'd only get updates once a month. O____O Isn't it better to have them frequently and consecutive?

2e. Then why don't I just write more often? Trust me man, I would if I could. I love reading your reviews, but I've got a life too. If you guys want to read my xanga (I talk about life, my morals, my philosophies, my days, outings with my friends, photo blogs, I write alot in general), then you should ask me to reply to your review and I'll send you the html link through an email reply to your review.

2f. Why don't I update more often? Believe it or not, same reason. If you read my profile, it'll tell you I'm a crap student. Which I am. In comparison, at least. I go to a special school, an academy for the intellectually gifted. My IQ is actually higher than an average kid's (apparently. but i totally dont believe it. i feel like such a dummy in all of my classes), but I'm actually just really really lazy in school. Unfortunately, the shit hits the fan. It all eventually catches up with me. Therefore I get loaded with work like 24/7. I'm procrastinating my procrastination such that I'm busy 24/7. Think about that.. after I finish doing something last minute, I just have something else due to do last minute too. In that endless circle, since I'm always busy doing things last minute I dont even have a MOMENT to do things ahead of time. Its so self-destructive. Ah well. Theres always next school year! (psh.. like i'll fall out of my bad habits that easily.. oh well). I'm usually free on fridays though. (Did you notice that I usually update really late friday nights or really really early saturday mornings around midnight?).

2g. But dun worry. =D From now on, I AM MAKING THE EFFORT TO TRY AND UPDATE TWICE A WEEK INSTEAD OF ONE. Eh. So I guess you can't rely on the friday night info anymore. I'll be switching it up. Todays update is EARLY! SEE?~ =D (but its only b/c i got let out of school early today.. and in case youre wondering the bulk of the chapters I've been posting up recently were all written during spring break. I've been lazy and havent written anything in about 3 weeks. I've been flocked with term papers and exams. sigh. poor me. i fail't at school). Only downside of me trying to update twice a week instead of one: my pool of advanced chapters written in bulk will run out alot more quickly.. therefore you better hope I find the time to write a little more in bulk before I run out of chapters to post up ! O.O

**#3.** _Are they ever going to find out what it is that theyre doing?!?!? WHy don't they just look it up online?!_

3a. Yes. They will. If you are already getting irritated by the recurring theme, just wait, because this is the primary plot. I'm going into different sub-plots later on. I promise. This plot is an establishing one, its irritating but completely neccesary. Its Chapter 9 right now. So by "later on," at this point, I mean VERY soon. If you are bored, just, Please wait. And I _hope_ you keep reading !! =( Reviews help me know what you guys think of it, so I can improve and expand. You should let me know if it's really not holding your attention anymroe =(((( So far, theres only been 2 actual M-rated core scenes though, with the angsty not-knowing of what theyre doing theme.

3b. No, I will not tell how_ how_ they will find out and learn about this stuff. Keep reading and following this story and it'll all unfold before your eyes before you even know it. =D

3c. Asking questions like that help me figure out what blind spots I have in the story. I read them, and then address them later on. So if you ask questions like that, KNOW THAT THEY WILL DEFINATELY BE ANSWERED **EVENTUALLY**, via Let Me Help You. Keep following the story!!

**My questions now:**

1. Are you guys getting _bored_ of how slowly I'm pacing this story apart? Is it too long? Too descriptive? Should I condense things? Is it bad that its been 9 chapters and only 2 days and a morning has passed? :(

2. Is updating once a week REALLY that long of a continuity for an ongoing story? _Really_ ? O.O I've followed authors who've updated a lot less frequently but i'm not much of an until recently that I've gotten into it.

3a. Recently I've also found myself reacting to your reviews alot more than I'd expected to back when I first started posting up chappies. But I'm sort of confused. Some of you want me to rush things: "omg when are the lemons gonna be here?" and "make max get her period!!" and "what about max's horniness?" stuff like that. And don't worry, I had every single intention of eventually addressing all of these concepts, but I just didn't think people would ask me to address them by the second day in the timeline. O__o

3b. So the reason I'm confused is that I've also been getting a bunch of reviews from people who tell me that they like the fact I'm not making Max and Fang mindlessly horny and stuff. See, now these two things clash. On one hand I'm getting pressure to make them mindlessly horny, and the other to keep them going slow. Would I be disappointing some of you guys if I were to add in some more.. scandalous elements _rather_ soon? I want honest opinions, I know that all of you have different ones too. :]

3e. I'm curious as to the ratio of how many people like the slow process pace versus the hard fast M-rated stuff.

4. So I don't really like non-canon characters added to the story, but I need to introduce one character (who is **NOT** significant to **ANYTHING**. she is JUST a pseudo-being, created for the SOLE purpose of being a catalyst. I REPEAT: NOT ANYONE WHO ALTERS THE MAXIMUM RIDE UNIVERSE). Anywho. I was thinking of a name. Would you guys get pissed off if I just named it, like Brigid, even if its not really Brigid? I repeat, a PSUEDO-character! DOESNT ALTER THE UNIVERSE! Cause I don't expect Brigid to show up in this story in the possible future at all, the character's name could just be a forshadow in the greater scheme of things in the MaximumRideUniverse.

_THanks if you read this INCREDIBLY large rant!! I'm so sorry for taking up so much space, lol. Don't worry, future ANs will not be as long as this..  
_

_In the beginning I never added authors notes because I thought that it may annoy readers, but I got so much positive feedback when I started putting them up, so yeahh! =)_

~catch ya on the flip side!!


	10. You're Making It Worse Pt 1

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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**Chapter Ten**: You're Making It Worse

Fang and I walked into the area of trees until we were a safe distance from the flock, so that even Iggy's supersonic ears wouldn't be able to hear. Looking around and surveying the area—the ground was rocky, twigs everywhere—I heard a shuffle of clothes from the corner of one ear as Fang leaned back against a tree.

I turned around to face him, my eyebrows furrowed, worried.

"Fang—" I started, as Fang took a deep breath, opening his eyes.

"Wait.. I think, I think I'm okay now," he cut me off looking off to the side. His voice sounded completely normal now, his arms folded on his chest. He looked fine too. Feeling slightly skeptical.. or paranoid, I suppose, would be appropriate.. I glanced down to his jeans. I tried to assess it, but I wasn't very sure as to what his crotch was supposed to look like either swollen or normal. I looked back up to his face, meeting his eyes. His face lacked emotion, but I could see the irritation written all over it. He felt like I was smothering him, overreacting. Thats what you get with Fang.. he barely cares about himself.. tries to make everything look like its nothing.

Okay. So he really did seem fine. But that didn't stop my paranoia. Afterall, he _could_ just be lying. He lied yesterday. Just cause I made him promise, doesn't mean that he'd listen. I mean, it's Fang afterall. It's not as if he's got _the _most respect for me in this entire flock...

"Fang, I still want to check," I said to him worriedly. He sighed, sounding very annoyed. He glared at me for just a moment, and then got up off leaning on the tree and began to step off the protruding roots on the forest floor, looking like he had every intention to head back to the picnic site right away. My left eye twitched. Oh, he _so _did not just ignore me...

In a flash I got in front of him, shoving his shoulders back. Not expecting it at all, he fell backwards, his back hitting the bark of the large tree trunk.

"Fang, you had better not be fucking lying to me, got that?" He glared down at me, with his dumb height advantage. This irritated me further. I was just about to kneel down and check if he was alright now for myself. He shoved me back before I could fully reach down.

"Max, don't touch me," he said clearly, his eyes still squinted in the glare. I sighed loudly, agitated. Two or three feet apart, we stood at a standstill. He was being so stubborn. I sighed again, quietly this time, and looked down.

"Fang.. I'm not trying to be overbearing.. But there's something wrong with you. We both know it. I need to see if you're okay, Fang."

His gaze softened as the words poured out. He sighed again, this time in retaliation, but didn't loosen up. His stance was still tense.

"Ugh, Max, you're not getting it. I'm fine right now, but you shouldn't touch me," he said exasperatedly, turning his head to the side to look at something in the distance. He spoke as if I was the one who was being stubborn. I shook my head at him incredulously, walking closer until I reached him. I knelt down in front of him. He turned his head back to me, looking down on me. He shook his head at me disappointedly again, but didn't stop me.

From my position kneeling down on the forest floor, I looked up at him, following to bring my hands up and meaning to unbuckle his pants. He paused for a moment longer, as if I'd actually dare to not listen to him. Once he saw that I was serious, catching sight of my hands reaching up to waist, he quickly turned his head to side. Swiftly, he unbuckled his belt himself, unbuttoning his jeans, and then flicking them down to his ankles. I mentally rolled my eyes. Prestige with him, even after all this..

He rolled his eyes, standing before me in a very faded black t-shirt and crisp dark navy boxers, his head turned to look off to the side, his arms folded in front of his chest. I brought my hands up quickly and slipped his boxers down to his knees. His head was still turned to the side, refusing to look anymore.

Looking at his pelvis, I frowned. He was right. It lay there, soft, limp, not looking so engorged as I'd seen it be previously. I frowned harder, not wanting to admit it.

"You're right," I said crisply. Fang didn't respond in any way. His arms were mobile by his sides, his head still turned to the side. He was being obnoxious about his rightness. Ugh, Fang..

I ducked my head slightly under to check the ball-like sacs behind them. My head nearly between his knees, I reached up to feel them, to make sure they were soft. I rubbed them in and out for several moments, satisfied at the lack of sphericalness I felt in them. I mentally nodded to myself, relieved. Fang's head turned back to face forward, looking down at me. I pulled my head back, taking my hand out from under, about to slip his boxers up to his hips again, just when my hand brushed against the cylindrical form above those two sacs. Except for the fact that it wasn't so soft anymore. My eyebrows furrowed, and I looked at it curiously, surprised.

Fang grimaced down at me.

At first I thought I had imagined the hardness that had brushed against the outer side of my wrist. I put both my hands in fists around it, to press down on it, as I had done to his balls, and make sure it was still soft. It just felt harder though. I frowned harder, feeling like I'd messed up somehow. It curiously felt like it was growing larger and harder in my very hands. I looked up to see Fang looking down at me, a look on his face I couldn't quite place. It was less of pain, the irritation on his face now swelling away, now filled with something else.

"Max.. what're you doing?" he almost whined. His voice had grown gruff and shallow now. I felt his penis in my hands, growing stiffer and filling up the excess skin, becoming larger by the second. I furrowed my eyebrows again. At this rate, I'd get wrinkles. Very, very soon.

I'd messed up somehow. Made a mistake. So I had to fix it. Help him somehow. I began to pump my hands up and down his large, engorged penis. My thumbs and index fingers applied pressure, coordinating with one another. Fang looked down on me, his face overcome with something, no longer irritated at me or angry with me. I heard a groan escape his mouth, so quiet that a normal person probably would not have been able to hear it. I continued to slide my hands up and down his large member, feeling very upset with myself. He had been fine, and then what had happened?

Suddenly, his hands pushed mine away.

"Fang, what're you doing?" I asked him, getting further upset with myself. He caught his breath quickly and responded

"It's gonna get everywhere, and we don't have an extra set of clothes to change into. The flocks gonna ask questions if we get the white stuff all over us," he said to me seriously, "I don't want the flock to know anything about this until we figure out what's wrong," he continued. His hand held his hard penis by his right thumb and forefingers. I absentmindedly noticed that he seemed to be in so much more control of himself. He didn't seem so flustered, so overwhelmed, pained, or desperate. Maybe this was a sign that he was getting better, I hoped in the back of my mind. From the floor I looked back up at him. What he said made sense, but what were we supposed to do? Fang looked down at the hand holding his crotch, as I spun thoughts around in my head, staring at it too. I reached up, touching the hand embracing his penis, tilting it towards me. I placed the index finger of my other hand on the tip of it's bulbous head, absentmindedly noticing the arrow-like shapeliness of the end. Fang watched me carefully, that strange unplaced gaze still lingering in his eyes.

"The fluid comes out of here, right?" I asked him, rubbing the head this way and that, thus causing Fang to gasp inaudibly. He nodded silently, his adams apple bobbing up and down dangerously.

"Okay," I replied. I leaned forward, closer to him, moving his hands off of it and enclosing it in my own. "Make sure all of goes into my mouth, so it doesn't splatter everywhere, alright?" I said determinedly.

"Wait, what?" Fang said loudly. His eyes widened.

"No, no. What if you swallow some of that? What if this thing does some shit to you ?" He said loudly. He was nearly shouting. And that was big. Fang nearly never raised his voice in general. He jerked his pelvis away from my hands. I glared up at him, grabbing his penis, bringing it closer to me again. Did he think I didn't know that? My well placed glare spoke a thousand words, but Fang just lifted his jaw and kept shaking his head, his eyes still wide.

"Max, don't.. seriously. It'll go away by itself, trust me, it will, it eventually always does" he said sternly, trying to make me stop. I looked back up at him, still glaring. I squeezed the penis in my hands extra hard, eliciting a loud groan from him, "UGH, Max..," he squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling.

Taking advantage of his distracted disposition, I looked back down it at my eye level. I ran up and down it one more time, eying it carefully. I positioned it right in front of me, and then my head slowly came forward, my mouth opening to let it enter. I hard a sharp gasp from above me, and then it was quiet as I pushed it further into my mouth. One hand stayed on the base of his penis, rubbing up and down its mid-length. My mouth could only hold the head and a little bit more. My other hand reached back behind him to rub the hardening sacs. I could feel balls forming in them now. I rocked my head back and forth, my neck moving forward and back, up and down. I looked up for a moment. Fang was looking down at me intently, his hands stiff at his sides. He didn't utter a single moan after that first one, but his heartrate was quickening by the second, his breathing growing harsh. He didn't take his eyes off of me, so startlingly unlike the first time this had occurred in his bedroom a few nights ago.

I looked down and forward again, working to focus on it, moving back and forth. The foreign substance in my mouth felt like it was growing even harder. My tounge licked around the cylindrical head as my hands kept pumping up and down and rubbing. I kept licking my tounge around and around it, trying to feel for some type of fluid excreting from it. My eyes were shut tight, my mouth hard working to fiercely accommodate the large form taking harbor in my mouth.

Suddenly to my surprise, I felt a hand brush across my forward. I opened my eyes and relaxed my tongue for moment to look up. Fang still had his gaze on me, intently watching me, his chest moving up and down as he took deep shallow breaths. I heard another quiet moan come from him as his hands brushed the hair splayed haphazardly over my face out of the way. He didn't break eye contact with me, the intensity was startling. I looked up at him for a moment, and then got back to work again. I felt his hands run through my hair, pulling it back and holding it to the side for me as I bobbed my head up and down on his engorged penis. His knees bent a little bit, to make it easier for me, one hand holding my hair back and the other resting on my shoulder. His eyes were not glazed over, but serious and alert, looking at my face with a startlingly pointed gaze.

Suddenly, I felt a small bit of fluid release from from the tip of his penis in my mouth. My tongue ran over it several times, whisping it away. Feeling superlatively satisfied, I started bobbing my head on it up and down faster, squeezing his sacs harder and twisting his penis harder. I heard Fang hiss slightly above me, "Agh.." he gasped out, throwing his head back with his eyes now shut tight. I was moving faster and faster, despite how hard it was for me to accommodate his large member in my mouth, but he was getting closer to release, and from experience, it seemed that it was always hardest near the end.

At some point along the way I felt pressure on the back of my head. The hand that was holding my hair back had now been brought forward to hold my scalp, gently pushing it forward into him rhythmically. Fang was no longer looking down on me with his intent gaze, his adams apple bobbing up and down threatening, his face was tilted up to the sky, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes gently closed.

Keeping in the rhythm that his hands were pushing his penis into my mouth in, I suddenly felt a giant squirt come out of the tip of his penis, exploding tumultuously into the back of my throat. I pumped harder and faster, feeling the sacs slowly soften as more squirts began to fill my mouth. I tried my hardest not to swallow, I was feeling like choking and throwing up, but I tried not to very hard. I felt the throbbing of his penis die down, his hands let go of me, resting at his sides. The last squirts pathetically ejaculated from him, and I felt sticky line of fluid trickle out of the corner of my mouth down to my chin as room ran out in my mouth.

Fang gently pulled out of my mouth, I closing my lips shut tight through as the length exited, to keep anymore of the white substance from escaping from my mouth. His penis growing softer, he laggedly sat down on his butt on the forest floor, facing me. I looked at him, my eyes wide, my throat strained, and my cheeks full. The white fluid was leaking out of my mouth from more then one area. I leaned forward on the ground on my palms, and opened my mouth, the white mucus-like fluid taking its slow time to drip out of my mouth onto the forest floor. I stayed like that for a while. 5 or 10 minutes, with white stuff trickling out slowly. At some point through, Fang leaned forward, running his hands through my hair and pulling it back, so it didn't get wet. We watched the last bits of the large amount wade out, and then Fang slowly pulled me back on my knees. He turned my chin so that I face him, and he searched for something in my pupils for a second before he looked down to my chin, and wiped away the excess white fluid that had trickled out of the corners.

"Max.. You didn't have to do that," he said quietly. His eyes however, looked pained. I shook my head again. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to say it again. He'd better get used to the idea of me taking care of him. He was a part of this flock, and I was the leader. I'm supposed to take care of him, not the other way around, despite whatever we had exchanged in the beginning, when Jeb had left me so vulnerable. That one situation did not change the fact that I was the leader. He'd better stop reprimanding me and start treating me as one too. This must've gotten the message through, I hoped.

Not having anything to say in response, I absentmindedly recalled yesterday. I put my arms around his waist and sunk my head into his chest, hugging him. Apparently, it was to his large surprise. He wasn't quivering like he had been yesterday, and he was already in control of himself. He hesitantly and awkwardly put his hand ontop of my hair in return of the gesture. I looked up at him from his chest, sitting on the uncomfortable twiggy forest floor.

"Do you feel better now?" I asked him after the moment.

"God, Max.. That, that was incredible. It was so hot and wet.. Your mouth was so... tight.." he said earnestly in a shallow breath. I furrowed my brows in confusion. He sounded like he was saying it in a positive connotation. I looked up at him quizzically.

"It felt.. it felt.. so good," he said to me, tilting his head down. A look of appreciation was written in his eyes.

I raised my eyebrows.

"_Good?_" I repeated, trying to make sure I didn't hear incorrectly. I reached over to slip Fang's boxers up over his softened penis, but he reached down and did it himself as he saw my hands approaching it. He got up and pulled his jeans up from his ankles, buttoning and buckling them as well. I guess there were certain components of prestige you couldn't take away from him, regardless of the number of boundaries broken.

"Yeah.. it was incredible.." he replied in the same manner. I was confused, but Fang didn't seem to understand my confusion. He still seemed pretty out of it, considering he hadn't sensed my confusion yet either. I'd ask him about later. I looked up, trying to measure the time in the sky from the sun, but the thick forest trees blocked the majority of the skylight save for a few patches of light that graced us down below.

"We should head back to the flock now. I don't even know how long it's been.." I said to him worriedly. I got up, straightening out my white t-shirt, and dusting off the dirt from the knees of my jeans. I reached over to pat my hair down that Fang had mussed up previously when he had been rocking himself into my mouth and felt a hand suddenly fall ontop of my own, pushing it away.

Fang bore over me with his height, picking a few stray leaves and some twigs out of my hair. He leisurely searched the top of my head carefully to perfection, gently combing it down with his fingers. I stood there, letting him, whilst feeling slightly unarmed. The feel of his fingers pressing lightly, gently into my scalp, alternately applying pressure while running through my hair down to the back of my neck caused me to feel strange. Somewhere, in the pit of my stomach, I felt like I shouldn't be feeling something like this as I relished in the feel of his fingers caressing my scalp. I liked it, but it felt like something wrong, something new, some foreign feeling that I wasn't supposed to be feeling.. I shouldn't be enjoying.. I felt a deep aching throb in my abdomen and my chest tighten nervously as if clenching around something hollow. The cloth of my shirt felt uncomfortable rubbing against my front. My breath quickened slightly and I felt hypersensitive of that aching throb in the pit of my gut. He looked down at me apathetically after he was done.

"Let's go," he said turning around and beginning to head back to the flock.

I turned around and clutched my chest, catching my breath. My heart was beating ultra-fast, my pulse was racing. That doesn't happen to the Maximum Ride, I told myself. Determinedly, I turned around and stared at Fang's back on the lawn, his hands slouched into the pockets of his jeans. I watched him leisurely walk back to the picnic site wondering what he had just done that obviously he himself, hadn't acknowledged. Staring at his back for a moment longer, I blinked away those curious feelings and ran up to catch up with him.

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Fang is NOT a pedo. Angel is NOT horny. Dear god. O___O

Angel is a mindreader.. whatever. Explanations for that particular scene will come up in the story later on..

Thanks for all the responses to the epic AN from before.

Read and Review, make SURE to tell me what you think, _trust me_ when i say that youll appreciate it.

I'm really astounded btw. This is my first fanfiction. Ever. And I** definitely** did not expect _any_ feedback since I'm so new.

And yeah.. about this whole repititiveness. Well the timeline is on the third day. This is the third day. The first subplot (this one) will end on the third day. SO DONT WORRY. IT WILL SOON BE OVER. AND ON TO DIFFERENT, EQUALLY IF NOT_ MORE_, RISKY THINGS.

peace out! me! =D


	11. Between a Rock, a Leaf, and A Hard Place

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?  
_

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Chapter Eleven**: Between a Rock, a Leaf, and a Hard Place

**[Warning: This chapter is a bit.. graphic. Slightly.. _gross_. Its self-admittedly disgusting. So, read at your own risk and AN at end explains.]**

Fang and I reached the picnic blanket and the flock five minutes later and found that Gazzy and Nudge had already gotten back from their flight. The younger kids were all sitting around in a circle, sipping on juice boxes, laughing and giggling; the weather today was truly divine. Iggy was comfortably splayed out on the blanket out to the side of the little circle of laughter, lazing about. His head rested on his arms, folded behind the back of his head. His shin rested on the knee that was propped up. He lazily hummed a tune, his eyes closed, and the foot resting on knee tapping the air to the beat.

"Hey, hey, no shoes on the blanket Igs! I don't want it dirty." I shouted out to him once we had gotten close enough.

"Max is back!!" Angel squealed delightfully, once she heard my voice. She was turned around to look at me from the circle they were sitting it. She waved to me outrageously; I was so scared her arm would fall off from the amount of energy she was putting into it. I laughed at her antics and left Fang, quickly jogging up to see the kids. I saw a teensy smile grace the edge of Fang's face as he watched his flock from afar, walking towards us in the same blasé pace, his hands casually slouched into his pockets. A beautiful spring whisp of a wind traveled down the hill, running through us before reaching Fang and ruffling his dark bangs, lifting them up for just a moment to reveal the pale olive-toned skin of his forehead, a sight rarely seen. I absentmindedly pondered how handsome Fang would look like without bangs on his forehead, his face clearly open for everyone to fully see. I paused in shock at the thought that had just run through my head. Why was I thinking something like that? Since when did it even _matter_?

Nevertheless, he had matured quite a bit. His face no longer held the boyishness that it once had, his jawline was more defined now. I had always wondered why Jeb had looked so different from us. He said it was because we were kids and he was an adult. Kids become adults, I thought...realized, absentmindedly. Fang reached the blanket, sitting down tiredly next to where Iggy was still splayed out on the ground, his foot now propped up on the grass instead of on top of the blanket.

I turned back to look at Gazzy in the circle the younger kids were in. His face was flushed red with adrenaline from his flight with Nudge down to the valley, where they explored things while Angel was being taught by Fang. Nudge and Gazzy were enthusiastically telling Angel about all the things that they saw—little fishy things in the pond that were shaped like plants but had bubbles come out of its mouth. An orange and white thing that Iggy interjected, was a crab, and had bit Gazzy's finger... and et celery. Gazzy was raising the red and swollen bulbous thing that had been his index excitedly up to Angel, sticking it in her face.

"Ewww.. Gazzy, get that away from me!!" Angel exclaimed, leaning back and wrinkling her nose, glaring at the Gasman. They started laughing wonderfully. Fang, Iggy and I leaned back, watching them, the sounds gracing our ears beautifully. They were having fun.

In between gasps of laughter, the Gasman reached over to Angel one more time. I laughed at his antics—he had such a bad sense of judgement—obviously, it can't work twice. I reached over and grabbed the side of Gazzy's cheek, squeezing the lush baby fat between my thumb and index finger and stretching it out, making his face look ghastly. This caused Nudge and Angel to break out in another outrageous fit of laughter. Angel, clutching her stomach, tipped back and fell down on the blanket, rolling around with her sock covered feet in the air. Gazzy grumbled, rubbing his cheek and muttering. I laughed even more. The day was incredible; I couldn't remember the last time I've laughed so hard since the Gasman's last prank on Iggy. The lush spring weather put me in a divine mood. It felt like all the worries had lifted off of my shoulders. I felt so free, so happy, it felt like even Fang's problem was just another trivial and easily solvable issue. It didn't feel so... so _hopeless_. I threw my head back and felt the sunlight fall onto my face, my laughter dying down with the wind to soft breaths.

I hummed happily, my eyes closed tight in the feeling of the day. I turned over and looked at Fang. He looked like he was just about to doze off right there on the blanket. It almost made me giggle. It was _not_ something he'd be too happy about if he did. He'd usually be perched against a tree on a branch, sleeping. But the pooped, child-like face he had on while nodding off to sleep was priceless. I observed him more critically, taking advantage of the opportunity. He no longer had the baby fat that characterized Gazzy, that once had characterized him too. I could see his high cheekbones handsomely jut out. They were small, but several whisps of hair were growing down his face in front of his ear towards his neck. It nearly reached his jaw. It suited him though. I thought about the other day that I had seen the dark patches of under beneath his underarms too.

Jeb hadn't had sideburns, but he'd always had little tiny bumpy things on his face. Whenever he'd pick one of us and put us on his shoulder, you could feel the raggedness of these bumps. I remembered that if Jeb got up late oneday, the bumpy things would be darker and cover his whole jaw. One time, he hadn't done that thing to his face with a small stick and white creamy stuff for an entire week, and a bunch of hair had grown there. Like lightening, it suddenly struck me that Jeb had had sideburns, he'd simply taken them off. If he let the bumpy things grow out, he would've had hair all over his face. I looked closer at Fang now, who nearly asleep. There were soft whisps of dark hair beginning to creep down past his jaw onto his neck too, but it wasn't substantially hairy, yet. He was laying back now, with one elbow propping himself up behind him and the other arm resting on his knee. His eyes were closed peacefully, his chin nodding up and down gently. He was used to sleeping sitting up, all those years of perching himself up in branches had taught him this. Laying down right next to him was Iggy, still haphazardly splayed, still quietly humming his nonsensical little tune.

To my avid surprise, Iggy suddenly jot up from the ground and yawned ostentatiously, stretching his arms out behind him. He shook his head violently, freeing it of any critters that may have set up camp in the last 6 hours since he'd gotten up.

"Hey, I should get started on dinner now, shouldn't I?" He said, turning to face me, his sightless, beautiful electric blue eyes staring past me. I looked up to the sky to measure the time. From the position of the sun, it was probably around ten minutes of 6, give or take.

"Sure," I said to him, nodding. "If ya need any help, just ask." He nodded and leaned over to grab the ice cooler and wicker basket of stuff he had packed in the morning for getting dinner ready. He went right to work, taking out various utensils and appliances for the job. I watched his hands work for a moment, and then brought my eyes up to look at his face. Iggy, too, had matured quite a bit. His jaw and chin were long and lean, the hollows of his cheeks could be seen in slight indents on his face. There weren't long trails of hair down the front of his ears, but I noticed fine red threads stagger on his chin and above his upper lip. Subconsciously, I reached my hand up to feel around my own face. I didn't feel any strange protruding hairs though, and I was older than both of them.

There was something tired about the faces of Fang and Iggy, and even myself, I thought. Compared to Gazzys or Nudge's, ours seemed so much more... pained... experienced. It was expected. It was even in our demeanor. They were kids. They barely remembered the horrors of the School. The pain of Jeb leaving. The struggle of raising them... the struggle of raising ourselves. Iggy's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I saw his fingers feel a loaf of bread carefully, checking for any flaws or critters, or whatever it was that he was inspecting for.

I looked had in the mirror the other day in the bathroom and saw a look on my face that looked frighteningly similar to one of Jeb's. I remembered a time when my face looked as innocent and childlike as Gazzy's. Kids, they turned into adults, didn't they? Staring up at the beautiful, clear blue sky, I wondered. Humans, God, Animals, Plants... they all grow up, they all die... someday. Did God make us?

Humans age. Human-avian hybrids age. Can we really say that we are products of God? Or are we products of man? There was so much we didn't know about ourselves. Even humans.. how much did normal homosapiens know about themselves anyway? There was so much out there. There were bad people out there, who wanted to take us. There are humans out there, who aren't like us. They wouldn't understand us. We can't relate to them. We aren't like them. No matter how much Fang wanted to see the world... it isn't safe for us out there. We don't know anything about anyone out there... it was best for us to just stay here. It was safe. The kids are still young. Can we really assimilate to the world out there? Maybe Fang was right. That if we don't try, we truly never will be able to.

But... were we ever really meant to?

I sighed, opening my eyes and glanced at Iggy from the corner. He had brought a blender with him. Where the heck was he gonna plug that into?! Oh. He was doing some weird shit with some weird rocks and a stick and an electrical cord... wait, is that our modem? I paused and then rolled my eyes. Nevermind. Grub is grub. Who cares how he makes it?

Sitting on the other side of Iggy was Fang, who had officially dozed off, the side of his forehead resting on his knee. It's a useful thing, really, to be able to sleep in any position. An adaptation of necessity, I suppose, from years of living in a dog-crate. On the other side of me, Angel, Gazzy and Nudgy were amusing themselves, their giggles still sounding in moderation.

I ignored the clang of silverware and pots and pans as Iggy cooked, or rather, created. I heard a hiss of a fire from my right ear, but pointedly ignored it. Out of sight, out of mind... It was so much better to just not know, in Iggy's case at least, I thought wryly.

My mind slipped back to this afternoon... in the forest, with Fang. I hoped he was getting better, 'cause he didn't seem pained and as vulnerable like he had that first night in his room. On the contrary, it almost seemed like Fang dealt with it almost... leisurely. Normally. Maybe he was just trying to be overly blasé about it? Despite however well he was coping with whatever was happening now, the fact was, however, that it was still happening. And that was the real problem. What _was_ happening? Why? All I knew so far was how to get rid of it, and only temporarily at that. They kept coming back.

I put my head in my hands, frustrated. I thought back to what happened today harder. Fang... had said it was really good? What was that supposed to mean? It felt good; not, "It doesn't feel bad anymore" and not "The bad feeling is gone," but an outrightly positive: "That was so good..."

I was really confused; needed to talk to Fang. We have to figure out what was happening to him, sooner, rather than later. What if something really bad ended up happening to him in the end? What if it was one of those things that grew with time? We needed to figure out, fast, so we could fix it, fast. My thoughts lead back to the point right after that. I was suddenly remembering how Fang had combed through my hair afterwards... That strange feeling in my gut had come back again. I tried to think about other things, but I felt even stranger. It was even worse when I remembered what Fang's abdomen had felt like when I had been checking up on him. The way he groaned deep in my ear... the way he said my name while he squirted the white stuff out... like he really _needed_ me. Like I was only one that mattered. The only one that could help him. I shivered and hugged myself, bringing my hands around me to embrace myself.

This isn't right... I was feeling things that hadn't ever felt before. It didn't feel bad... but it felt... it felt weird. It wasn't right... I brought my hands down to touch my abdomen, where the hollow feeling resonated. Maybe _I _was sick now. Maybe it was because I had accidentally swallowed some of the white fluid that had come out of Fang's penis. There was so much of it, I couldn't help it, couldn't hold it all in my mouth at the same time. Some of it had leaked out down my chin, and some got accidentally swallowed some while I was trying to take breaths through my nose.

I applied pressure to the area with two fingers. It didn't seem to do much, but rubbing the area lower down felt... felt okay. It was pleasing. I continued to do it... somehow, my pulse increased. My breathing grew more shallow. I kept thinking about Fang and how he said my full name in the bathroom yesterday. He'd said it so many times, over and over again... his voice had been filled with emotion. I'd never heard him sound like that before in my entire life before then, and he had been saying it with such passion, such need... such... _want._

"A-ah..." I let out a quiet moan in a shallow voice, my heart beating faster and faster, almost as if I were in flight. But I wasn't. I was still sitting here, down on the ground, staring at Iggy boil something in a tall pot.

Iggy turned around to face me, with a questioning look on his face.

"Hey, are you alright, Max?" He asked worriedly. I looked up at him, nervous, my eyes wide open and a flustered look on my face. Reality check.

"Yeah, um, I'm fine Iggy. Do you need some help with dinner?" I asked. It was like I was a deer caught in the headlights. Thank God that easily passed him and his sightless eyes.

"Nearly done. This is gonna taste awesome... Um, you can help grate the carrots. Don't hurt yourself though..." Iggy said cautiously, in a joking manner. Nevertheless, I knew he was still serious. Max plus cooking utensils equals disaster. Not a good mix.

I nodded, happy to have something to take my mind off of things and moved forward to the area of the large blanket where Iggy had set everything up. There was a fire a few meters away on the lawn that a large pot with steamers and a rack was boiling on top of, small round balls on top of the rack. I knelt forward to the clean wood fold-up board Iggy had taken out and set up in front of us, where he was peeling and chopping tomatoes neatly, dicing them into a pile to the side. Jealous, I took a carrot and began grating it carefully, moving on to the next one. I didn't suffer too many injuries, save two or three gashes on my fingers. Not too bad but I normally wasn't so clumsy... Something about a kitchen atmosphere just didn't agree with me though, I thought murderously, unhappy from the lack of cooking skills I suffered.

15 minutes later, I had three carrots messily grated, but grated nonetheless, sitting in front of me. I stared at them proudly, but it could've easily have been mistaken as a glare. Iggy laughed.

"Sure took ya long enough." He chuckled good-naturedly. I pouted, glaring at him. But it was ever-so-expectedly wasted on him.

"Okay, you can chop them now. They don't need to be really nice or anything, so that's why I don't really care if you mess up..." He started, playfully adding a belatedly interjected, "Which you probably will." I humphed loud enough for him to hear and poked Iggy in his side before searching for the knife. I couldn't see it on the wooden board where we were working and everything was set out. Iggy, hearing me shuffling around, and the inherent lack of chopping noises, realized what I was looking for.

"Oh. It's on my other side." He said. His hands were doused in the sauce he was making, so he gestured with his right elbow. I nodded, and then carefully went over to reach over him, as Iggy wiped his hands clean with the handcloth hanging from the edge of the table. Reaching up to put the handcloth back over the top of the handle of a hot pot, he brushed against me. His larger form prevailed, preventing me from reaching over and grabbing ahold of the knife on his right. On the way back from placing the handcloth ontop of the pot, his hand happened to brush against my chest. It had been unavoidable in such a close proximity, with me having unsuccessfully bent over him to fail at reaching the knife.

I was leaning on my knees, bending over the wooden board and curving around him to reach it on his other side. The moment wasn't very awkward to say the least, but Iggy didn't move. That irritated me. Almost experimentally, it seemed, instead of bringing his hand back to his side from placing the handcloth on the handle, he brought it back to where it had brushed against me. He touched the side of my breast that my arm usually rested beside, but more pointedly this time than when we had contacted previously. He kept his hand there, feeling up and down the side of my left breast, slowly dragging his fingers down to the rounded curve below. After the moment, he took his hand back, reaching to his other side to grab the knife that I had been looking for.

"Here ya go." He said, handing it to me politely. I took it, embarrassed. A moment passed before he started speaking again.

"Wow, Max, you're like, y'know, really, _really_ soft, you know?" He complimented. Or I think it was a compliment. I shrugged.

"Eh, I guess?" I replied, surprisingly calm. I kind ofdidn't want to admit it, especially since Iggy was being so blasé about it, but it really shocked me what he had done just then.

Sure he had felt me before and all, but it was never so... so pointed. And I had never actually... put significance to it. They were family—I'd definitely cradled Gazzy and Nudge and Angel, and Iggy for that matter, against my breasts frequently, but I'd never even thought much of it. Fang had always been into his space and all, so cradling and comforting was never really his thing, but I'd definitely hugged him before. It was just so... electrifying, so... _stirring_ when Iggy had felt his fingers up and down the side of my left breast. My face felt rather red as I cut the carrots haphazardly, uneven and horribly choppy. The throbbing, hollow feeling had returned to my abdomen, deep within my gut. The feeling traveled up, all the way to my shoulders. The area where Iggy had felt me tingled, making my stomach do flips. It felt like something was missing, like I needed something. The throbbing in my pelvis resonated inside of me.

Leaving the knife on the wooden board for a moment with a quiet thud, I reached down with one hand and applied pressure to my stomach, rubbing it in pointed circles below my belly button. It felt good.

I stopped. There was work to do. Ignoring the feelings, trying to leave it behind me, I went back to diligently chopping the carrots up. However, the feeling in my breasts remained, still tingling, a painful reminder of how good the rubbing had felt. Absentmindedly, as I chopped the carrots in front of me, I brought my elbows forward and my arms closer to my sides. I pushed my breasts in together. That felt good too. In fact, it felt really, really good. There was something weird going on. My breasts felt strange. They felt so sensitive, so.. tender. I could feel the cloth of my shirt rubbing against the tips, and it felt uncomfortable... it felt... strange... All I know is that it only made the feeling in the pit of my stomach more pronounced. It felt like I was aching for something. My thighs began to feel uncomfortable. It felt like something was hanging down from my crotch. I felt like I needed to use the bathroom.

Chopping the last of the carrots and pushing them to the side with the side of the knife, I told Iggy I had to relieve myself. He hummed an acknowledgment and continued dicing beets up, sweeping the hastily chopped carrots into the palm of his large hands and reaching over to toss them into the pot. I walked away from the campsite, Nudge having fallen asleep already, and the Gasman torturing a ladybug while Angel was sorting out the flowers they had picked by color. I glanced at Fang's lean back, his cheek slumped against his knee. Soft breaths escaped his mouth, he was sleeping peacefully. It'd been a long time since I had last seen him in such a state. He must've gotten really tired after teaching Angel the side swerve and then after... in the forest. I turned around and continued walking, towards the deep settling of trees.

Finally, I reached a stump of a tree that looked relatively sanitary enough to put myself near. I looked at it sadly. It must've been a pretty sturdy and strong looking tree before mother nature decided to mess with it. The stump was haphazardly broken, the tree probably having been knocked over during a storm of some sort.

I unzipped my pants and slid them down my legs as I bent down. The cool air around me felt enthralling. I didn't wear underwear—never had. While Iggy and Fang had briefs and boxers, I had never had a pair of underwear. I wasn't really sure why, but with all due respect, I didn't really understand why Fang or Iggy needed them anyhow.

It was Jeb who had done all the shopping in town back when he had been here, and he had bought them packets of pairs along with articles of clothing for us. Fang had probably grown accustomed to wearing them, as I noticed that he continued to buy pairs. Interestingly enough, the last time he had gone clothes shopping for us, he had even picked up a package of them for Gazzy despite the fact that Jeb had never dressed him in them. But neither had Fang or Iggy until they had got older—Jeb had first introduced them to them when they were about 9. I had never really wondered, nor cared much.

I knelt down, resting my elbows on my knees, squatting down against the edge of the tree stump. I looked down, my hair falling in front of my face, as I willingly let go of any tension I had in my nether-regions and watched the yellow liquid stream out from my urethra intently. I heard a slight _hssh-_ing noise as the stream jetted out of my crotch until only a few drops remained. I waited for the last drops to drip down onto the stained patch dirt below my vagina moistened with my urine. I waited for a second longer, and then shook my head, whipping the hair that had fallen in my face back.

I bobbed my behind up and down over a rock to splatter off any excess urine that may have still been clinging onto the curve of my behind. The squat had tired out my knees, and I found myself gently leaning on the rock, squatting on it, rather than hovering over it, using less energy. The sensation the cool smooth-edged granite had on me was incredible, a slight jut in the rock was sticking up right towards the center of me. Instinctively, I rocked my butt back and forth on it the slightest bit, perhaps just a few millimeters. Nevertheless, the feeling was sensational.. it was good... it was... startling... So I immediately got up from the rock, ending the strange feeling and removing myself from the source of it, what had traveled through me.

Having finished doing the deed, I looked around my surrounding area. I reached out with one hand, the other keeping my jeans on my knees, and grabbed a leaf, tearing it from it's mother plant. I watched my hands carefully bring it between my thighs and place it on my crotch, patting it upwards to absorb any wetness. I looked up from my crotch, bringing my gaze to look around at the trees as I continued to pat up.. but I didn't stop. Curiously, I had fallen into a rhythm, patting upwards. Slowly, I applied more pressure to it... it felt different, with a leaf. The ridged edges rubbed against me. I sort of enjoyed the way it felt... the... the friction. Suddenly, I felt like I needed to pee again, but I just had. With a sudden understanding, I realized that my lower belly button felt like it was on fire all over again. I connected these two feelings. Friction... that's what Fang had said that first night. That he enjoyed the friction on his penis. I swiftly took the leaf out from underneath me. I threw it on the ground quickly and immediately pulled my pants up, buckling them.

Putting these things out of my mind, I headed to go back to the picnic site. The smell of something good was already wafting out towards me, which was saying something, since I was a good distance away. I suddenly glanced back to look at the leaf I had discarded. It was completely saturated, but I usually didn't drip so much after urinating. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, frowning, and then shrugged it off, heading back to return to the campsite.

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AUTHORS NOTE:

Ehh.. SORRY if you guys are grossed out by this chapter!! .

I'm not some horny kid whose writing a pedophilish story about some kids getting acquainted with their body parts.. I'm actually writing about adolescence (and maybe I'm just being perverse while I'm at it, but thats besides the point), so like, I feel that a chapter like this was completely necessary. =( Sorry if you guys arent happy with it though.. I don't regret writing it though. I feel like its essential to the whole concept of this story.

The easy thing about writing on ff is that .. well, personally, I don't take the time to proofread these chapters. I don't really mind if someone reviews my story and comments on a sudden tense change or spelling error or inconsistency. Its not my priority in this particular case, if you know what I mean.

Writing for english class requires technical skills and such. But writing a story.. it makes me care less about grammar and more about the piece of cloth I'm trying to weave. =)

You're Making It Worse Pt. 2 is coming next chapter. This was just sort of a.. like, a little detour. Something thats neccesary.

Comments encourage.


	12. You're Making It Worse Pt 2

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Twelve**: You're Making It Worse Pt. 2

I reached the picnic blanket to see Iggy being loud and obnoxious. He seemed happy.. which meant he was probably done cooking then. Very happy with his new creation, presumably. I saw Fang sitting up and rubbing his forehead, his mouth stretching out his face in a quiet yawn. I walked over to him, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"Yes, you _did_ sleep for _that_ long. And _yes_, in broad daylight," I teased him mercilessly, laughing happily. He moaned in response, irritated that I'd found a reason to annoy him. I continued laughing and he let go of his forehead, looking up at me and blinking several times. The remnants of sleep were still evident in his clogged face. He groaned once more, trying to swat me away. I jumped to the side for a few steps and then leaned back down again, standing and bending down a the waist to his eye level with my hands on my hips.

"Did you have a nice nap?" I continued to tease. He blinked again, wide-eyed and looking more alert now. I watched him observe something below my neck for longer than a moment as I spoke before he brought his eyes back up to look at me.

"Yeah. I did," he replied, getting up. Watching him, I bent back upwards. He walked towards Iggy, running his hands down the length of his face before shaking his head.

"Yo. Where's the water, man? I wanna wash up before dinner," Fang said to him. Iggy hummed delightfully, stirring whatever was in the pot and reveling in smelling the wafts coming from it. He face looked as though nothing could possibly destroy the good mood he was in now.

"I dunno man, weren't you and Max supposed to get some? I mean, you guys sure took a while when you were gone," Iggy replied, "I dunno where you put it though," he added. "Look around a little bit, or ask Max where she put the pail if she's back yet," he suggested. Fang turned around to look at me and groaned loudly, irritated. We hadn't gotten water, and he wanted to wash up. Next to that, Iggy had commented about how long we had taken. Fang's face was burning up. It disappeared in the next second or so though. In fact, it went away so quickly, I started to wonder if I had really seen it or not. Fang walked off the blanket, stomping around the perimeters of it like a 5-year-old with a temper tantrum.

I watched him bemusedly. Fang wasn't so great right after a nap, and not getting things when he wanted them right afterward didn't please him afterward either. I stifled a laugh at his antics. He shot me a glare, causing me to cover the large smile on my mouth with the back of my hand. It was only pissing him off even more that he couldn't blame anyone—it was his own fault that there wasn't water. I gave up trying to keep it in and burst out laughing, which woke up Nudge.

She lifted herself up, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She jolted up awake in a nano-second though, a stark contrast to Fang's waking up ritual.

"Ooh, I smell food! It smells great, ahmygosh Iggy what'd you make? It smells deee-vine. I love that word, Max, isn't it so cool? It sounds to elegant and princessy, like like, something the queen of English would say. I heard that she doesnt live in the United States though, she lives in Endland or something, but the name starts with a 'B' right? Maybe it's called Endland cause she lives at the end of the world cause shes queen. But I swore I heard the place called by a 'B' name. Hmm.. maybe it was barbella. Or Barbatraina. Is that who barbies are based off of? The Queen of English? I thought she was like, you know, old and wrinkly though, Barbie is just so pretty..." and thus the Nudge channel started.. Fang rubbed his forehead. Well, he was definitely awake _now_, the Nudge Channel was on. All Nudge, all the time. Thankfully, Iggy cut her off.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he boomed. Gazzy imitated him, in a louder, announcer-guy-on-tv voice though, like an echo after Iggy.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Iggy repeated, "Bird and Avian-Humans alike.. I bring you Iggy's new masterpiece! Shish Kabob souffle au Birdkid!" he exclaimed excitedly. Angel started clapping and giggling, completely enthralled by his exaggerated performance. Smiling at her enthusiasm and Iggy's adorable sense of pride after his creation, I joined in. Fang threw me a smile from the corner of his mouth, and the entire flock began clapping for Iggy, who had stood up and began bowing, his arms spread out on either sides of him. Fang let out an breath, amused, entertained by his friend's antics.

We sat around in a circle on the blanket, digging into the gorgeous entree Iggy had made for us. Nudge was right—it really _did_ taste divine—from the soup, to the dipping sauce, to the kabob sticks, to the gyro sets—it was awesome. Gotta love that Iggs.. he's definitely got a talent for these things. Feeling quite full, I leaned back, laying on the blanket.. my stomach felt good.. it felt like it was pounding and about to explode. One of the best meals I think I'd ever had.. except of course, what Jeb used to cook. Don't get me wrong though. Iggy is definitely a superlatively better cook than Jeb.. but something about Jeb's cooking.. it reminded you of.. of home.. a warmth.. Perhaps it was because the first actual sit-down meal I'd ever eaten was by him.. it was something you couldn't forget though. Even if he had messed up one night, and the food tasted horrible, there was still a spark, just because Jeb had made it.. I sighed, closing my eyes. I had to get these dumb thoughts out of my head. All day today I'd been having weird, strange thoughts. There was something wrong with me. Ugh.

"Hey, Max," Gazzy said to me, a few spaces down the circle. I looked at him, leaning forward to sit up. His fingers were sticky and submerged in the dipping sauce, and marinara sauce was all over his mouth. He was holding three kabob sticks in his hands simultaneously. That eager mouth of his was probably able to bite into all three of them at once though. I mentally shrugged—can't reprimand him for that, cause if I could do that, I definitely would. Our table manners definitely aren't.. the most _refined_ in the world, if you catch the gist of it..

"Yeah?" I said to him.

"I think you need a bigger shirt. You're getting fat," he said bluntly, his face splattered with marinara sauce over more than half of it. I blinked at him. Everyone stared. It was suddenly just dreadfully quiet. Their eyes passed between his face and mine, across the circle, staring at him and then at me. I blinked again. Wha? I was getting _fat_? We were genetically altered Human-Avian Hybrid. _We don't get fat_. I mean.. until _now_, I guess...? O__o

Everyone stood at a standstill, food frozen halfway to their mouths. I kept staring at Gazzy. There wasn't a particular emotion on my face, I think, but I was confused. The silence was broken by snickering coming from the location of Iggy, a few spaces down the circle on my other side. That got me moving. I slowly turned my head from Gazzy to face Iggy. I stared at him. He held a kabob stick in one hand, and the other was hideously attempting to cover his mouth. Eventually, he gave up and started clutching his stomach, breaking out in fits of laughter. I glared at him murderously. Between gasps he started to speak,

"Aha-ha.. Gaz, my man.. You are—hah—_so.._ dead.. hahahah" he spoke hysterically. Eventually he stopped, straightening up, and at last noticing he was the only one laughing. Fang smirked, lightly coughing and looking away. I threw him a glare too.

"_I'm_ like.. dead, aren't I?" he said raspily after a moment. His face had grown pale and stricken. That was a big ol' dumb moment right there. The smarter (and younger) flock members knew not to speak.. they were waiting to assess my reaction. The Gasman, finally understanding the implications of his own statement started to sweat bullets across the circle from me.

"M-max, I d-didn't mean it in tha-that way, I m-mean, l-like, y-y'kno-y'know," he began to stutter mercilessly. I watched some marinara sauce drip off of his chin. I kept staring at him. Nothing was really written on my face though.. What was I supposed to say, anyway? I heard Nudge and Angel begin to giggle, covering their mouths and looking at Gazzy. I turned over to look at them. The Gasman was completely terrified. That got me laughing too. He gulped hard.

"_What_ever, Gazzy" I said to him with a smile. Soon, the entire flock started laughing, in relief, more than anything, probably. After a few minutes of good-natured laughter and who-knows-what anymore, I straightened up. Curiously, I asked the Gasman a question for real.

"Its Okay, but seriously though, why do you think that? We're so below the normal BMI for kids our age, Gassers. Its just sort of ridiculous for you to comment something like that," I said to him. He took my question in, and sat there.. sort of thinking about it. He looked my torso up and down—I was sitting with my legs crossed indian-style.

"Weell.. I dunno, but your shirt is like really really tight over there," he replied, pointing to somewhere on my chest, "I can even see dots and stuff," he said.

I looked down to my chest. He was right. There were two dots protruding out of the thin white cloth of my t-shirt. There were over each of my breasts. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nudge, Angel, and Iggy look down to their shirts and feel around. Nope, none of them had that problem. It was just me. I cocked an eyebrow curiously, looking down at my chest. I looked up to see Fang checking them out too. His face looked apathetic—oh, what a surprise. Iggy, looking rather worried, got up and walked over to me. He got down in front of me, squatting on his toes on the picnic blanket. He cocked his head towards Gazzy's direction after he had leaned down to me, "Really, man? You sure about that? As far as I know, that ain't normal," he said to him. Iggy looked rather concerned.

Iggy brought his hands up to my sides and gently brushed his hands over the area of my chest, feeling up and around it in all places. "Yeah, nevermind, you're right, I feel the bumps," he muttered worriedly. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Nudge had gotten back to eating, and I saw Gazzy reaching over to grab another gyro. Angel and Fang were watching me. Angel looked horribly worried, and confused at the same time while Fang was staring intently, but still with the same apathetic look on his face.

Iggy brought his hands down after assessing the situation, and then slid them up my shirt. I felt my breathing intensify as I felt his large, rough, calloused palms gently brush against my bare midriff, sliding this way and that. He slid his hands silkily up my sides first, feeling the generous curves that were placed in between my hips and waist. I felt him press down below my belly button with his two thumbs on either side while his fingers still hovered over my sides. The length of his two hands alone made up more than half of the width of the perimeter around my torso. I shivered subconsciously as I felt his hands travel up to my breasts. Each of his hands were placed over my breasts. I looked away from his face, my face feeling red hot. I looked in the wrong direction and caught sight of Fang staring at us with an unwavering, yet expressionless gaze. There was something in his eyes I couldn't place—that same expression I'd seen on his face the other day and this afternoon.

My breaths started coming out in deep, silent gasps. My head turned away from Iggy's sightless gaze, I made eye contact with Fang, feeling Iggy's fingers caress two considerable mounds of soft flesh. I stared deep into Fang's dark chocolate-colored eyes as my pelvis began to throb all over again. Fang kept on staring at us, at Iggy's hands up my shirt. The indentations of his aristocratic hands and his long lithe fingers and knuckles visible through the cloth of white shirt, stretching it tight against me. Hypersensitively aware of his exploring fingers, I felt Iggy's thumbs brush against the nubs that Gazzy had noticed visible through my shirt. The friction of the fingerprint lines on his index finger swirling around the nub sent fireworks rocket up my pelvis. The feeling of Iggy's lithe fingers rubbing against the tips of my bare breasts sent a sudden exhilarating feeling, an unexplainable sensation down to my abdomen, to the pit of my gut. I clamped my lips shut, gritting my teeth, refusing to make any more inexplicable moans. I closed my eyes, and turned my head to the other side, no longer facing Fang's gaze. Gazzy and Nudge were still eating, but I saw Angel watching Iggy as well. The look on her face was one of a confused adult, her eyebrows were furrowed and her jaw looking indignantly concerned. I raised my neck up and back as I felt Iggy's hands brush over the hard circles again.

"They're like, getting even bigger..!" he exclaimed, his eyebrows cocked up in surprise. He slid his hands out of my shirt, much to my relief. I sat there, clutching my chest and trying to catch my breath. What did he just do to me? Iggy sat back, his face looking fiercely worried, and then stuck hands up his own shirt to his own chest. I sat there, clutching my chest and watching him. Fang didn't release his gaze on me, but now he was intently speculating me, his head bent downwards. I watched Iggy shuffle around his skin beneath his own nondescript white t-shirt. I saw him rub around on his own breasts, and then his face suddenly calmed down, he breathed a loud breath of relief. His eyes closed, the worry visibly seeping off of his face rapidly. By this time, I had gotten myself together for the most part, but my chest was still tingling. The cloth of my t-shirt rubbing against my nipples made me hypersensitive of those feelings, but I tried to distract myself, focusing all of my attention on him.

"Phew.. Okay, nevermind. Its not that serious. Mine gets bigger too when I do that. Lets just ask Fang to pick up some bigger shirts for you next time he goes out," he said, sounding relieved and regaining a calm composition. I looked over to Fang, but his gaze still hadn't lifted from my chest.

"I'm going out to town tomorrow evening," he said in response to Iggy, while still staring at my chest. There was something dark sitting in his eyes. I suddenly felt rather self-conscious, and hugged my arms together around my sides. Iggy had gone back to his spot in the circle, and was currently working on getting something out of the wicker basket he had packed. I looked up to the sky to mentally measure the time. It seemed to be around about 7:30, but the sky was still clear and bright, the spring time weather, gorgeous. Turning, I heard a sudden shuffling of clothes. I could only catch sight of Fang's back as he turned and walked away from the picnic site.

I frowned. Where the heck was he going without any notice?

Iggy had heard him get up too, and turned around to face the spot that he had been sitting in previously.

"Where'd he go?" Iggy asked me, his neck straining to turn around from what he was working on.

"I dunno.." I absentmindedly responded as I looked off to the distance where I had glimpsed him walking off. A hint of anger grew within me. Why the heck did Fang make it so hard for me to keep track of him? I was growing more and more agitated by the second. I let go of my arms that I had been hugging around me, and stood up determinedly. Trying to find that hard-headed dumbass of a flock member of mine... many and more chores that came with being Flock leader. My left eye twitched as I stepped off of the blanket and into my worn sneakers. I _so_ did not feel like doing this right now.

"I'm going off to find him," I said murderously to Iggy as I walked off in the same direction he had. I heard Iggy chuckling at my deathly tone of voice, probably imagining Fang's sweet, sweet death at my hands, as I begrudgingly made my way across the hill.

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It didn't take me too long to find Fang. He hadn't gone too deep into the forest, he was in a rush.

I stepped on a twig, ducking underneath a branch to catch sight of Fang: His boxers and jeans were pooled on the ground at his ankles and he was leaning against the dark brown wooded bark of a large tree with his palm, while the other hand vigorously pumped, stroking up and down his penis. He had already known I was there, but didn't look up to acknowledge me. He was focusing fully on what was in his hand, grunting and moaning unashamedly. He pulled the outer skin of his penis up and down quickly over and over again, like he wanted to be done quickly.

"Ugh.. ugh.. god... shit.. godammit," he let out in shallow breaths. He was being alot more outspoken than he had been this afternoon. I stood there for a moment, assessing the situation, before I sighed exasperatedly. The previous anger I had been building up, aimed toward him as I searched, disappearing in less than a second. Fang, what was wrong with him? Couldn't he just _tell _me about it?

"Fang, I told you to tell me. You promised me you would let me know. Do you know that I'm just about ready to smack you right now?" I said to him venomously. He ignored me, and kept on pumping up and down quietly. I walked over to him quickly with every intention to push him away and take over.

"NO, stop Max," he said loudly in a low, deep voice. I looked at him, half-surprised but agitated as well. How long was he going to keep doing this? It was getting pretty old, and damned irritating as well.

"Fang—," I started, before I suddenly got cut off.

"No, Max, I can do this quickly, just go back to the camp site, I'll be back really soon," he said calmly. He kept on pumping up and down swiftly. A soft groan escaped his lips, the elbow of the hand supporting him faltering for a moment. I looked at him dumbly.

"You're not okay. Let me do this." I said in no-nonsense voice.

"Max, you're not getting it.." He said, looking me straight in the eyes. He paused for a moment longer, before he passionately spoke, "You make it _worse_." His hand let go of his penis and he stood up straight, getting up from where he was leaning on the bark of the tree. He stood there in front of me, leaving his long hard penis hanging down between his legs to reach his thighs. He looked at me with every bit of seriousness etched on to his face. I felt confused.

"Wait, am I doing something wrong?" I asked worriedly, afraid that I had been hurting him all along. Fang shook his head, looking up for second before he answered.

"No, Max. Look, you _just_ make it worse. I can't explain this to you. It gets harder and harder every time I think of you. When you have me in your hands, in your mouth, it just gets harder for me to stop. It just takes longer," he explained impatiently. A look of realization dawned on my face, but I still didn't quite understand.

"Wait, so you know when this happens now?" I asked him, concerned. He looked off to the side before answering me.

"No, yes, I think I know what makes it worse, maybe, I mean, I don't know. Maybe, 'cause I'm not exactly sure, but.. sometimes I just start thinking about you and it comes up and I get all uncomfortable and don't know what to do. Sometimes it just happens randomly. Sometimes it goes away by itself, but then sometimes its just so.. so.. fucking.. I can't," he spoke jarringly. I understood that he didn't quite know what he was saying, he couldn't quite explain himself because he didn't quite get it himself anyway. I sighed. He was trying.

"It's okay. We'll figure out, don't worry. Let me do this now," I said, taking all the information he had said to me, and storing it away in the back of my mind to mull over at another time. For now, we'd just get rid of the problem, for now.

"No, Max, it's quicker if I just do it myself," he said, turning back around to put his palm again the tree, leaning against it.

"What?" I asked, confused, all over again.

"Ugh, Max, just listen to me. Just go away, and I'll be back in a second. Just GO, Max," he said to me in a dead-serious manner, putting his hand back around the hard length hanging between his thighs. You really think I'd just mindlessly listen to whatever he told me to do? I'm Maximum Ride, leader of this flock. _No one_ just _tells _me what to do. Well, except for Fang. But that's because he's Fang. Nevertheless, it's not like I'll just listen to him.

"Fang, why're you being like this? Just let me help," I pleaded, rather irritatedly.

"Max..," he said patiently, "If you do this for me, it's _just_ going to take longer, trust me," he explained slowly, as if I were a five-year-old. Now _that _certainly irritated me. But he seemed to know what he was saying, so I judged that it was better to listen to him in this case, but regardless..

"Then what can I do? Isn't there anything I can do to help?" I asked him, confusedly.

Fang kept pumping up and down, not responding. I knew he had heard me. And I hate being ignored. No one ignores Maximum Ride. (Well, except maybe for Fang. But that's Fang, and like I said, it's not like I ever take it easily from him either). I was just about ready to storm up to him and shove him, hard, for not answering my question, but he saw me out of the corner of his eye coming forward towards me and beginning to speak. Still facing the bark of the tree, I saw him look at me from the corner of his eye, ready to say something, but hesitating. He stared at me for a moment longer, looking me up and down. I impatiently waited for him to just answer, tapping my foot.

"Max." he said. I cocked an eyebrow, folding my arms on my chest authoritatively. He turned from the tree and walked forward, closing the 6 feet gap between us. He was still about three feet away in front of me, when he stopped. He looked at me with his eyes dark, that same displaced look in his eyes I'd seen before.

"Sit down," he said quietly, looking at me. Confused, I did what he said, thinking that he'd want me to make sure the white stuff didn't get all over our clothes again, to catch it all in my mouth. But then why did he bother to put a fight about all this stuff 2 seconds ago? Especially if he was going to ask me to do something I _meant_ to do in the first place. I didn't get Fang.

"Lift up your shirt." he said breathlessly. What? He didn't want me to catch all of it in my mouth, but lift up my shirt? _Lift up my shir_t? What did that have to do with anything? I looked up at him with an incredibly confused look on my face, sitting on the floor. He looked down at me, his eyes intense, his gaze unwavering.

"It'll get it done faster." I frowned, but complied. I lifted my shirt up to my waist, revealing my belly button and my midriff.

"Higher," Fang said gruffly. He was now gripping his penis in one hand, staring down at me. I lifted my shirt up higher, holding it up past the curve of my breasts but not beyond the center point of them. The folded edge that resulted from my hands lifting the edge of the shirt to my neck barely brushed against the bottom of the light brown centers.

"You can rest it on top.." Fang instructed in a whisper, staring deep into my eyes, as he began to pump his hard penis slowly. He was no longer looking at me, his gaze focused on my chest completely. Rest it on top? What does that mean? Oh, he meant to let go of the edge of the shirt. My hands would eventually grow tired of holding it up to my neck. I looked down to the half-exposed bottom of my bare chest, and lifted the fold resting against the tips higher. I gently tucked the sides in below my dark armpits. The tucking didn't seem to stay still, but the shirt still stayed up, resting on top of the circular curves that opened up my chest, bunching up lightly below my neck. My upper body was exposed to him. The sky was getting a little bit darker now, growing a deep indigo, but the light from the white clouds still graced us. A slightly chilly wind passed between us, and I felt goosebumps on my midriff and exposed arms. I felt a popping sensation on my boobs as I looked down and saw that the nubs had extended. Curiously, I reached down to touch one, twisting it around. I liked the way it felt.

"Uh.." I breathed at the sensation that came from twisting it. It was strange. It felt.. painful.. but I liked it. It made me feel like something heavy was hanging down from my crotch all over again though. I quickly let go of it, blushing deeply at the noise I had just made. I looked up to see Fang. Luckily, I don't think that he had noticed, distracted by his own ecstasy. He groaned, looking up for a moment into the sky, but his gaze immediately returned to my exposed chest, settled underneath my t-shirt, scrunched up. The amount of intensity he was putting in the gaze startled me.

"Max.." he said in between loud breaths. I looked up, he was pumping vigorously, his knees bending forward a bit to stick his pelvis out in front of him.

"I like it when.. you touch it, a lot," he groaned out the last part, and closed his eyes for a moment, focusing solely on vigorously stroking up and down. Surprised at his confession, I absentmindedly brought my hand up to a nipple, and held it between two fingers.

"Like this?" I asked him carefully.

"Yeah.. stay like that for a second.." he said, his eyes, now open, were fully focused on the two soft mounds of flesh on my hands.

"Pull it to the side a little bit.." he asked of me. With my finger, I pulled my boob by the nipple to the side a little bit, stretching it out warily. I looked up at him. This was feeling really good.. but I don't think I liked it. I felt uncomfortable all over.

"Let go," Fang said in between deep gasps. I let go of the nub, watching my breast bounce back to meet the other one. It felt like I needed to pee again. My breasts shook, jiggling erotically at the reverberating impact I had thrown on them. I felt a throbbing in my pelvis again. I gulped.. These feelings.. They made me feel weird.. strange.. I liked it, I didn't like it.. and I was so confused. I distracted myself, focusing on Fang. He was now breathing roughly, still staring at my breasts jiggle. He was so encapsulated by them, it also made me feel frightened.. self-conscious, nearly. With a loud groan, he released onto the ground floor in front of him. A small droplet splattered onto the inside of my left breast. I looked down to it, and rubbed it away, meshing it into my skin. Fang breathed deeply, catching his breath as he watched me. He swiftly pulled up his pants and boxers and began to buckle them in front of me.

"Let's get back quickly," Fang said.

We left the pile of ejaculation fluid on the floor and walked back to picnic site. He was right—it was important for the flock not to notice anything. We couldn't have them worry. We began to head back to them. It was silent between us, both of us consumed in our own thoughts.. We reached sight of the flock in 2 or 3 minutes, when Fang suddenly turned around to look at me. He looked at my chest. My shirt was riding up over one breast, and hanging over the other haphazardly, my right breast completely exposed to him while the left had a stream of cloth scantily hanging over it. Deep in thought as we were walking, I had hardly noticed. My face felt red as I followed his gaze and looked down. I looked back up to him to see his eyes staring. His head bent down, he met my eyes through his lashes.

"Pull your shirt down Max," he said darkly. I noticed that his eyebrows were furrowed dangerously.

His tone of voice nearly frightened me. I would've been angry at him for having the audacity to order me around, if only my face hadn't been so red at that moment. I turned around and yanked it down to cover me. I straightened myself out before I turned around, only to see Fang's back. He had kept walking without me.

It was so hard these days. I never knew what was going through Fang's head.

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Extra long chapter for a record number of reviews! =D

Reviews = happy and well-educated me! and I hope you liked this chapter. The end of the third day in this continuum will mark the end of the first arc, and I'm sure alot of you guys will be relieved to hear that! The repetitiveness, I think, was necessary, so I don't regret writing it, but don't worry; new plot expansion now!

Keep reading! New developments to occur =DD


	13. An Incredible Urge

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?  
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Chapter Thirteen**: An Incredible Urge

We got back to the campsite. I felt superlatively self-conscious, feeling like my hair was haphazardly lain out or that my shirt or jeans were inappropriately adorned, or that.. I dunno. That something would be suspicious and would cause the kids to question us. Why did this feel like some big secret anyway? My head felt all muddled. There was so much I didn't get. I didn't like not getting things. It's hard to be blissfully unaware when you can't help being so paranoid, yakno?

I sat down on the picnic blanket and Angel climbed into my lap. Absentmindedly patting down her hair, I made a mental note to have a chat about her with what she had done earlier today. She's obviously aware of something, considering she doesn't exactly have the largest sum of moral discretion when reading minds. I seriously needed to talk to her.

The sun was setting. The murky blue sky was tinged orange, the sun completely out of sight by now. Fang was sitting off to the side, being particularly anti-social. More so than he usually is. There were a number of emotions written on his face. It was clear to me that he was thinking, hard. Conflicted. It wouldn't be a surprise over what, now would it? I sighed, shaking my head. I wanted to stop thinking about this. Strange feelings, don't know whats happening, getting embarrassed and not knowing why, feeling weird, Fang saying such strange things.. Fang being so.. uncharacteristically domineering? Too much. Right now, it was too much to think about. I rubbed my forehead, sighing quietly.

"Max, I'm sorry," Angel said, looking up from her seat in my lap. I looked down at her with a half-hearted smile.

"Its okay sweetie, don't worry about it. When we get back to the house we'll talk, okay, honey?" I said.

"Oh-kayy.." Angel said, stretching out the syllables, and turning back around to watch the remnants of the sunset over the hill. I looked over to Fang, sitting on the grass a considerable distance away from the blanket. He was resting his forehead on his thumb and forefingers, his head tilted down. I looked away from him.

I saw Iggy walking towards me. He sat down on my other side on the blanket as Angel got up and ran away excitedly to join the Gasman and Nudge chase fireflies around the field.

"So we really want to camp out tonight, cool?" Iggy asked casually, using the minimal amount of words as possible in his request, saying it lavishly quickly. It was a clever tactic. I almost just consented simply because from the tone of voice, his request seemed to be a trivial thing. But then I reran the sentence over in my head. Huh. Who, exactly, did they think they were kidding? Smirking snidely, I replied just as casually.

"Uh.. nope," I said with a smile. Psh. They had to be kidding. No way we were camping out tonight. NO way we were camping out this far away from the house. No, way. Iggy groaned, but didn't bother making a second attempt. It was a nice try though, gotta give him that. He sighed deeply in retaliation, bringing his head forward. I rolled my eyes. Drama Queen.

I watched the younger kids laugh and jump around, amidst the fireflies lighting up the lawn in front of the deep forests against the darkening sky. I think I just saw Gazzy eat one. I'll pretend I didn't see it, I thought to myself. The sky was completely dark by now. It was night time. We should definitely be heading back right now. I looked around. Fang still seemed to be tired, but it was only a 10 minute flight. Whatever. 2 minutes longer can't hurt him, or us, I compromised. Besides, the kids were having fun. 2 minutes of more fun should help them poop out into their beds easier too. I looked to my side where Iggy was sitting on the blanket. He had that look on his face again.

I rolled my eyes. There was that thing. He wanted something. I'd been sensing it since yesterday. He wanted something from me, and he's hiding something too. I'd make a guess as to what it is, but you never know with Iggy. He's that crazy bastard that brought a blender to a picnic and somehow made it work, using an Internet modem, a rock, and a stick. The beast.

He threw me a shifty smile. I glared at him, just waiting to hear what he had to say.

"So.. Max," he started out diplomatically. I rolled my eyes, humming an agitated acknowledgment. He heard the familiar sound, and threw me a mischievous grin, throwing away all inhibitions. This routine definitely isn't a new development..

"So... I wanna dye Gazzy's skin purple," he said bluntly, a playful lilt in his voice. Contrary to common belief, knowing him, he was totally serious. I mean come on, its Iggy. I turned my head to face him, observing him with my eyes half-lidded and saying nothing. I'd love to say 'You're kidding me' but that'd be totally lost on him. Duh, he was serious. He sensed my tiredness but continued anyway. Somehow my irritation seemed to freaking propel him forward even more. WHY ME? I thought dramatically, for a moment.

"Whaddya need?" I asked him nastily. Well, I tried my best at least. It's all wasted on him. Knowingly, this only elicited a wider grin. He knew he'd won.

"Your old jeans that don't fit Nudge yet, that yellow pencil with the fuzzy eraser top and that purple shirt," he said quickly, smiling. His teeth twinkled. Freaking, psycho. What type of person's teeth_ twinkles_?! Ugh.. man, Iggy. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, and we'll need to buy a new toaster," he added thoughtfully. My left eye twitched madly. It was probably having a seizure. Yes, specialized seizure symptoms for specialized areas of the body. Okay? Iggy can do that do you. Was he for real?, I wanted to ask myself. But unfortunately, the answer to the question wasn't so appeasing..

"Sure, whatever," I said to him slowly, my teeth gritted. I squinted at him. He could definitely feel this glare. I wouldn't be Maximum Ride if he couldn't. I should start listing that as one of my abilities: transferring glares to such aforementioned blind kids.

"Suh-weet. Thanks, Max, YOU'RE AWESOME," he exclaimed loudly before he ran got up excitedly.

"Don't forget to clean up the picnic site," I called after him. At least he'd listen to me for.. the next two.. minutes. That was the trade-up. Then he'd completely forget he owes me and subsequently get lazy all over again. Poor bafoomus I am. Ah well.

I watched Iggy enthusiastically busy himself in cleaning up all that we had brought with us. He was ultra-energized, probably devising his plan to get back at Gazzy whilst humming grotesquely cheerfully. He pulled out the blanket from underneath me with just a single tug. I would whistle here if I could. Thats what you call a _skilled_ psycho.

We cleaned up the mess and packed everything up. I glanced behind me to see my flock lined up in V-formation, me at the head and center taking a quick count. Feeling energized all over again, prepping for a flight (regardless of it being a short one), I put a determined smile on my face. I shot Fang a smirk, expecting a tiny smile in return.. but his face remained stoic and apathetic. He looked drained, almost as if having spent a lot of time consumed in his own thoughts. Frowning for just a moment, I turned back to the rest of my flock members, ignoring him, for now. My smile, less heartened now, was shot at each one of them. I turned back around to face front determinedly. Pumping my fist, I spoke to the sky. "U and A, guys," and we were up and out. Bliss.

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Nudge landed first with a tired groan. Her landing was superlatively wobbly, and she staggered on the doorstep, knocking into Gazzy. He protested at the impact, but only weakly. He too, was insanely tired. I watched my flock sleepily trudge up the front steps in front of the house, groaning at the thought of more stairs to climb before they could collapse on their soft inviting beds. The only bedroom that wasn't on the second floor.. was Jeb's. But save for one time seven months ago, we don't touch that place. The door wasn't locked. Its easy to just walk in there. But no. The room _smells_ like him. The bedsheets are still mussed up from the last night he slept here. From the night before he left, it would remind us of the morning we got up and didn't see him anywhere. We don't go in there unless we really needed to, like when we had realized we'd run out of food in the pantry and found a credit card conveniently sitting on top of his dresser. We'd later connect all the clues and realize he had actually _left_ us. Consciously.

I rested my chin on my palms, leaning over the kitchen counter on a stool and looking into the den, watched the kids trudge up the stairs wearily. They'd collapse on their beds fully clothed and to be honest, I wanted to as well. I was just as tired, despite the nap I took today. Too bad I had to do the laundry. Ugh, the perils of being The Maximum Ride. Dirty underwear and smelly socks. How glorious.

Pulling my shoulders back to work out some kinks, I stretched my neck out, rocking it back. I closed my eyes for just a moment of peace before I got up determinedly. The faster I got this done, faster I could be off to bed. Walking around the counter, I rolled my eyes in sheer stupidity. I just realized that I had forgotten to talk to Angel. Ugh. Whats the use of saying 'Note to Self' if you don't actually remember it?! Ugh. Tomorrow then. I'd talk to her tomorrow. Hopefully. Ojala. Isn't that how you say it in espanol? Hmm..

On my way to the steep stairs leading to the basement to the side of the kitchen, I backtracked. I had to get the laundry first. The drowsiness was making my head just go whack. I held my forehead for a moment. 'Absentminded' definitely doesn't suit me. Gotta get out of this hole. Rolling my eyes disgustedly at myself, I walked upstairs. The hallway was still and a sense of comforting quietness washed down the walls. It soothed me to know my flock was resting, sleeping quietly after having a great day. I let out a breath of relief, curiously not feeling quite so tired anymore.

I walked into the boy's bathroom, picking up the messy basket with piles of clothes thrown onto it. I grimaced, rolling my eyes. I sat myself on the cold white tiled floor, sorting through the clothes and putting them into three color-coded piles. We didn't exactly have a wide array of clothing choices. On the upside though, we saved on detergent.

"Ugh," I exclaimed as something wet reached my fingers. It was over one of Gazzy's blue shirts. That kid must've spilled yogurt or some shit this morning before he threw this thing in here. One pair of sweats of Iggy's was completely covered with a HUGE mess of it, the upper half of it practically drenched. It must've rubbed all over, cause it was all over everything now. I'd have to remind Gazzy later.. Stained, wet things don't get put in the laundry basket.. messes up everything else even worse. Agitated, I messed up the neat piles I had made and threw it all in bulk into one basket. It was all spoiled anyway. Who cares if the colors get messed up? I never really understood that either, when Jeb taught us how to do the laundry. Why does it matter if we put all the clothes in at once and wash them? Jeebuz Dice. Its so much easier to just do it all at once. I stood up with the heavy basket. And these were just the guys'. I left the filled basket at the top of the stairs and then walked to the girl's bathroom.

Luckily, the girls were smaller, their clothes smaller and less bulky. Only filled up half of the bucket.

I piled the two baskets ontop of one another with a light grunt. It was probably around 1 AM by now.. just a little bit more work to do before I could go off to bed. I lifted both baskets, one stacked on top of the other. I knew the house well enough, obviously, to be able to get around with my eyes covered, but the task was still tediously laborious. I reached the rickety stairs that led down the basement to where our rusty old washer and dryer were. Putting the pile down with an "..oomph," I sat down next to the baskets. After I threw in the first load—it was the guy's things and I hadn't bothered sorting them out by color since they were all messed up with the dumb yogurt stuff Gazzy had thrown in there—I sat down tiredly. 20 minutes until our old but handy-dandy washer would be done, and then to throw them in the dryer and load the whites clothes the girls had before I did their colors.

I found myself slowly nodding forward, but caught myself before I could fall into the illustrious, seductive lull of sleep that beckoned me ever-so-tauntingly. I sighed as the day ran through my head like a film reel. Hesitantly, I thought back to Fang. I fiddled with my fingers, stretching and absentmindedly tugging a piece of white cloth that may have been a shirt of Angel's or not. I was putting a lot of work into fidgeting around with my knuckles in my hands, but that wasn't where my head was focusing at.

I thought about how much had happened in just the last few days. At least I felt preoccupied now. At least it felt like I'd had a hold on things. Afterall, _this_ is adversity. Fang's problem.. thats adversity. And although I can't say I _fixed_ the problem.. at least we're dealing with it. At least we haven't yet just simply keeled over and died. Everything is.. deal-able. With or without Jeb. In some sense I'm proud of ourselves, despite how much we've significantly done nothing.. but we're dealing with it. You can always either deal with it, or die. One way or the other, we're still living life at the moment. Without him. We didn't _need_ him, I tried to convince myself.

But, about life. Is it really worth living if dealing with it encompasses so many other sub-problems? Don't get me wrong here. Birdkids don't contemplate suicide. Thats not what I was thinking about. I fight to live, and I live to fight for what I believe in. What I mean is.. what Fang and I are doing.. whats happening to Fang. Its so foreign. So strange.

I'd never seen those parts of him before just a few days ago. And the _real_ question is.. that I don't know why. We have a separate boy's bathroom and a separate girl's bathroom. Fang and I each have our own rooms, and Gazzy and Iggy share while Nudge and Angel share. No co-ed dorming in this house. No matter how much I tried to examine the situation, sitting on the cold hard marble basement of our E-shaped house and leaning against the washing machine humming against my shoulder blades, I couldn't think of anything else. Because no matter how I looked at it, this whole set-up, this whole situation that Jeb had set-up for us. It all constituted gender segregation. And really now, what was the point of all that?

No, I don't mean the point of gender-segregation, although thats still something I'm curious about, but I mean, what was the point of setting up such a situation? I couldn't wrap my head around in any which way.

This is why. This is why I felt strange, guilty, paranoid, about helping Fang. Because.. it'd always been a tacit, unspoken thing, but still grounded nevertheless.. we weren't supposed to see certain things. Theres the whole concept of privacy again. But like I said before, I don't think privacy is a large concern in the way I run this flock. But, I suppose there'd been a _reason_ we'd had separate showers and separate bath rooms. There must always be a reason. Jeb always had a reason. We figured all about his intentions later on, but everything that he had done within the 2 years he had stayed with us, it had all happened for a reason. Everything he did had a purpose.

By.. by helping Fang, coming in such close contact with places I'd never seen before, never even distinguished about him before.. thats why I felt paranoid. It felt like I was defying Jeb. Doing something that I wasn't supposed to be doing. I put my forehead on my palms, rubbing my temples.

Its not a question about "What were we doing?" because its obvious what we were doing. It was completely necessary. Fang needed help. But then why did everything thats happened today, feel so good yet so bad?

Like thunder, my last thought struck a cord in a neuron somewhere that would lead up to my cerebrum. I had wondered why Fang had said it felt _good_ today. Not better, not awful anymore, but a positive connotation with the word _good_. The word _awesome_. What if it was just like that? Just like what I was feeling today. Something that felt so good yet so bad. I felt the drowsiness cloud my thoughts as I struggled to keep focusing on the train of thought epiphanies chugging through my brain. The lack of carbon dioxide triggered my medulla oblongota up in the recesses of my mind, and I yawned quietly on the cold hard floor of the basement. The load was still whirring behind me. Shouldn't it be done by now?, I thought absentmindedly, leaning my head back to feel the bumps as the cycle spun around. It spun around and around in the washer like my head felt spinning around and around like how it was spinning right then at that moment too.

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Fang walked down, mentally becoming more and more irritated by the second as the basement stairs creaked with each step. Couldn't they be a tiny bit quieter? Jeebuz Christ. He'd remind himself later to fix those, he thought.

He set down another basket of ruined sheets. He had set his subconscious alarm clock last night to ring extra early to try to salvage them, but it had obviously been a failed effort. He looked at the sheets, glaring at them in his head, but his face didn't betray the emotionless exterior settled there. He shook his head disappointedly at them, just a slight movement of his chin that released a billion emotions. It was so hopeless.. But, whatever. They'd deal with it as things came. Even though it irritated him that Max was being so.. headbutty about it. For now.. just wash the sheets. And his pajamas, he added as an afterthought.

He turned around to set up the washing machine with water and detergent but what he saw surprised him. Max was sitting on her butt on the cold, hard, and gray basement floor. Her bare hands were tucked between her thighs, salvaging for warmth. Her shoulders huddled together, her neck was bent, awkwardly leaning back against the washer. Next to her there were several baskets of unwashed laundry. Immediately, Fang grew frustrated. What was wrong with this girl? Falling asleep here, working herself to the bone.. There were limits, oh there were definitely limits. As strong as Max was, she could be so damn stupid sometimes. Beyond belief. Sometimes he felt like smacking her. But he hadn't done something like that in ages. Since when Jeb first taught them self-defense. He'd trade up those blows then, for now any moment of the day. At least now she could learn how idiotic she is from the pain.

But no, he'd never hurt her.

His eyes still hard, he quickly walked over and bent down to one knee, checking to see how deep her sleep was. Damn, that girl could sleep anywhere. What was it called? Oh yeah, an adaptation of necessity; the experience that comes from living up in a dog crate for the first 10 years of your life. Looking around them Fang assessed all the work she had put on herself.. what time was it when she heard her shuffle around upstairs last night? Around 1. What an_ idiot_. Couldn't she have just done it in the morning? Instead of freezing her butt off in the freakin basement? Fang closed his eyes and sighed, lifting his head.

He immediately got to work, gently removing the plastic white laundry basket full of pink clothes that were presumably Nudge's and Angel's that she was leaning on. He maneuvered his hand around the basket so that she wouldn't notice its disappearance in her sleep. Once the basket was pushed out of the way, his own arm carefully took its place. Her head on his shoulder while he was still crouching down was pretty awkward position for him, but only momentarily. He slipped his hands underneath the crook of her knees, and gently nudged her head to be pillowed in his underarms against his chest. Taking a quick survey of all of her body parts, he carefully and quietly flexed his knees and stood up, balancing her weight on his torso and arms, cradling her against him like a child. Never thought that he'd see the day.

He cursed quietly again as he climbed up the basement stairs. Creakiest things in hell, those things were. They'll definitely be fixed soon, whether they liked it or not. It killed all and any notions of stealth, he noted.

He padded themselves up the stairs of the second floor. Luckily for those stairs, they were soft and carpeted. No animate and/or inanimate object would ever want to face Fang's wrath. He passed the doors of Iggy and Gazzy and Nudge and Angel, looking into each one while he balanced Max on one side. A weight lifted from his heart as he made sure they were all sleeping peacefully. He did that occasionally. He'd get up in the middle of the night sporadically and pad out into the hallway to check everyone's rooms and make sure they were all there and sleeping peacefully before he went back to bed. Not sure why. He called it off as some natural OCD-like behavior of his.

After checking that each of his flock members were safely sleeping in their beds he about-faced to push open Max's bedroom door with his shoulder-blades. He walked into the dark room, well lit by the light of the vibrant moon mixing in with the rising sun. It was about 4:10 AM. He carried her gently and laid her down on top of her covers on her bed, the soft mattress and pillow cushioning her on impact. He leaned back after laying her down, stretching his arms out behind him. Sure, he was taller, but he wasn't _that_ much taller. She was still pretty heavy. He noticed the hair that fanned out around her on the pillow and gently took a strand, twirling it around his finger.

He brushed off the hair that had fallen in front of her face, smoothing out to the side and tucking it behind her ear. He had seen her do that a lot, often, when she was about to start working—she'd tuck her hair behind her ear. He watched his own fingers do the same, slightly astounded by the soft feel of the cartilage on the outer lobe of her ear. He looked down at her with her hair no longer obscuring the visage of her face. He liked it like that. He liked looking at her face clearly, without distractions in front. The expressions on her face.. they were always so transparent. You could always tell what she was thinking or how she was feeling because everything was always written on her face. Its like heart was on her sleeve. Or maybe it was just he who could read her so well.

The window against the head post of her bed let a strange light fall over her face. The daybreak looming, the sky was a mixture between a light soggy midnight blue and a tired gray orange. It looked cloudy, almost rainy. The interesting mixture of light and colors danced over the contours of her face—the high, soft cheekbones that would get red easily more often recently, and the large clean, intellectual forehead, with a few freckles spotted over the far ends. The small chin jutted out to a square heart-shaped face. He'd given her upper-cuts there frequently when they were younger and in training. She always sucked at that—you could just trick her into turning around and then put a well-placed punch up chin or your hands around her neck. He looked down to examine the tender flesh below her jaw.

Leaning over the side of her bed, his right hand absentmindedly hovered her neck, just curious to the feel of it. It'd probably be very soft, it just looked like it. He swung his left hand over Max's other side to support himself as he leaned over her. He looked down at her face for moments longer, assessing it. Quiet, expressionless.. peaceful, unworrying. He frowned at he noticed lines etched in between her eyebrows. She was 13. She didn't have any real need to roll her eyes or furrow her eyebrows that much, now did she?

His heart fell. Yeah she did. And he was just another problem. Another worry. Max had been stressing over him hard the past few days, trying to do everything she could to help.

But she just didn't understand. Even _he_ didn't understand. His eyes slid down from her face onto her chest. He could see the peaks of her pert bosom. He stared a moment longer, encaptivated. With a mental groan, he felt his pants getting uncomfortably tight. Ohh, this was _not_ the right time for that to happen. He shut his eyes, gathering his bearings. He slowly let out a breath. He'd have to deal with this. He brought his arm back from leaning on the bed on her other side and stood up. He looked at her for a moment longer. He probably had her face memorized by now, having grown up with one other, but it felt as if he was willing her face to respond these days. He wanted something written on her face, and he was just imagining the beyond-radiant beauty it would hold if it were there. Something he'd never seen before. That certain sparkle in a smile, a laughter in her speech. He missed it, because it wasn't so that it had never been there before.

Fang leaned forward, towards her face. He brushed her hair back across her soft forehead with his rough and callused fingers. The contrast of the feeling of the two skins meeting was striking. He leaned closer. He.. he suddenly had this incredible urge. He leaned closer to her. Why was he having this incredible urge? He didn't know. Back when he was still here, it was what Jeb did to Max every night. To all of the girls. And Max did it to the younger kids now too. He never got it, never understood it, yet he was standing there, inches away from Max, restraining himself. But why? Why would he need to? He just wanted to.. he just felt like it. So with his eyes open and hypersensitive of everything around them, Fang leaned his face towards her with one hand place over her head, holding her hair back, gently pressing his lips to her forehead. He kept his lips on her forehead for a moment longer, relishing in the feeling as he closed his eyes before he knew he had to get up. He looked at her one last moment before walking away, closing the door gently behind him.

Fang walked to his bedroom, opened up the second drawer of his bedside table and took out a box of tissues. He pulled three or four out of the box and placed them on the bed before he lay down on it, slipping his jeans and briefs down midway to his thighs. He released with a groan and threw away the tissues he had caught the white stuff with. He lay on his bed for a moment longer, catching his breath, before he got up and walked downstairs swiftly.

Walking down the creaky basement stairs that which annoyed him to no end, he tackled all the remaining laundry Max hadn't been able to finish. Of course, he wouldn't tell her. She liked to think she was in charge, liked to do things herself. Didn't like to get help. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Did she think he was any different? How naïve. I guess people are most blind to who they themselves truly are, he thought. While sorting out the clothes and doing the tedious labor, he wondered why Max put things on herself so often. It'd be easy to just tell Gazzy and Nudge to do these chores. She didn't need to shoulder all the responsibilities.

For the second or third time that morning, his heart fell again as he realized that she did the chores without complain because she put it on herself as the leader. And thinking back, it isn't as if she didn't tell the kids not to work, she definitely did. But the chores always got held back by.. whatsits.. picnics, procrastination, clever birdkids with quick getaways. And she was the one who picked up the slack. Like the creaky basement stairs he'd told himself to fix later, if he mentioned his intentions to Max and ended up never getting around to it, she'd fix them herself. The thought inspired vicious anger within him, a burning rage. He'd make sure this he never had to see Max fallen tired like that again.

Finishing up the last load, his own sheets, he threw the last thing he needed to go in the dryer before stretching his arms behind his back with a yawn. He'd leave this stuff here and then go up to help Iggy with breakfast. It was already around 5:30. Iggy was probably just in the guy's bathroom right now, washing up.

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So thanks for all the reviews guys. =DD

I recently got some spare time to write some more since my schools been closed for a few days, cause of this whole swine flu thing goin on.

I mean, no one I know has it, as far as I know, but its sort of _crazy_ cause_ everyone_s sick with Influenza Type A. But my schools is full of geeks and dorks and nerds with high IQs, so these sick kids are still coming to school and coughing up heck everywhere.

So my principal forcefully shut it down cause so many kids were sick and in school cause they didn't want to miss class (Haha, crazy, isnt it? Man I strongly dislike some of the obsessively academically-oriented kids in my school).

Its not that weird that school shut down for like two days, I live in NY, so its been going around this area. An assistant principal in Hollis died from it just a few weeks ago, and thats pretty scary cause although my school is far far away in Manhattan, my house is only like only a VERY SHORT distance from Hollis. D: And the kids in Queens that had it at St. Francis Prep are RIGHT near too.. Agh. I mean, I'm not scared or anything, but its weird cause nothing like this has ever hit this close to home. You hear about katrina and shit, but all that stuff is so far away, and now its right here in NY ! D:

Anyway. So yeah. Free time. Its sort of stupid though, considering we only have a few weeks of school left anyway. But I'll take what I can get.

So I must ask you guys:

How many of you guys think that the premise of this story is ridiculous and unreasonable? I'm just curious.

I've had many people tell me that its a really original concept, to which I'm greatly appreciative of, but how many of you guys think its a distant, far-off concept?

I first thought about it when I read some very amusing fics; ones in which Fang finds Max's bra and it gets all awkward, or wierd occurances with puberty or hormones, like giving the sex talk to the kids. I read them, laughed, and then thought to myself, "wait, how do they_ know_ this stuff in the_ first_ place?" How does she know to wear a bra? Yeah, It makes sense for them to know with all reasonability, but (correct me if I'm wrong) they _did_ live by themselves for two years, according to the books. Like two CRUCIAL years of their lives: 12, and 13. Jeb was only there for a short while, wasn't he? I dunno. I dunno. To me, its more reasonable that they had never ever gotten the sex talk, even though the books obviously don't allude to that, or the way my mind works.

Hey, who else has thought that the Maximum Ride series has a few plot holes? Things like the color of their hair, their lack of agingness in relation to the time continuum occurances, wierd things that don't make sense if you consider the whole Itex-bringing-down+Ann+The_Director+ stuff. I mean, I don't get how some stuff correlates to others. Don't get me wrong, I love the books--theyre great--but there are a few things that just dont.. _connect._ And I've always considered their whole actual adolescence thing to be another one of those things that just don't connect.

So the writing of this fic, is more like.. peace in my mind. I'm really OCD about things that jump from one thing to another (I mean J.P., you're the author and you're a great one at that, but you can't bother to remember their hair colors?! what image of those characters do you have in your mind when you write then?!?! ..unless your editor does it all for you.. oops).

So granted, theyre a tiny bit OC cause, well, I'm putting them in a different disposition and theyre not fully mature yet as we see them in the books, but how many of you guys think that this plot is like.. something utterly made up that which completely lacks any sense in relation to the MR universe? (and consequently that the characters are OC beyond being their actual character)? Cause I dunno.. if thats the case, then I'd be very sad =( I think its a reasonable plot.. T^T

p.s. Iggy will be addressed soon. Right now I'm working on Max + Fang development, but Iggy is still there, looming. Yeah, he will be addressed. Wait, review (because more pressure and more questions make me want to write faster and address those issues you guys ask about so often), and then you'll find out. =) 


	14. Leadernism : Arc II

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?  
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Chapter Fourteen**: Leadernism

Once I got the table set and Iggy was well on his way through breakfast, I sat down on a stool at the counter wondering where the kids were. It was a big dumb moment, I realized, as I looked up to the clock above the kitchen counter and realized Max probably hadn't gotten up yet--she was the one who got the kids up. I shook my head irritatedly; to not wake up on time must mean she had been really tired out yesterday. I felt an aching in my gut as I realized it was probably because of me.

I couldn't do this to her.

I needed to figure out a way to fix this, without letting her get involved. I began to regret that I'd consented to let her help me other day. But.. when she was actually doing it, I couldn't help but groan in pleasure. It was just too good.. I lifted my forehead up from my palms before I got up tiredly, dragged down by the intensity of my thoughts. Those conflicting emotions.. how do you deprive yourself of something you _know_ is bad for someone else and consequently you, yourself?

"Man, I forgot to wake the kids...," I absentmindedly informed Iggy as I walked around the counter, heading for the stairs. I quickly jogged up the stairs, knocking on each door on either side of me as I continued the light jog through the hallway. I heard Nudge groan in the background.. I guess those knocks weren't so light after all. Well, those kids needed it. Sleepyheads, the lot of them. No comment on myself.

I reached the end of the hallway, slowing down as I came face to face with Max's door. I slowly cracked it open a few inches to see her still sleeping peacefully in the clothes she had been wearing yesterday. I mentally sighed a breath of relief. Good, she needed it. Sleeping in for a day couldn't hurt her, although I expected her to be raging mad when she woke up and saw the time. I shut the door slowly and quietly to make sure the kids wouldn't wake her. I'd tell them to stay downstairs and why the heck not, I might as well make them do some chores while I'm at it.

Turning around to face the stairs at the other end of the hallway, I curiously noticed that it was still empty. Ahh.. so this is what Max has to deal with every morning. I walked determinedly into the room the Gasman shared with Iggy to see him sprawled ontop of his covers in his rocket pajamas. The room was so completely bathed in sunlight that I had to blink a couple of times to get adjusted to it.

His dirty blonde hair looked like a birds nest and his long-sleeved light blue thermal top with red and orange stamped rockets, a hand-me-down from Iggy, had bunched up to above his navel, his bloated little tummy exposed to the world. I smirked before I picked him up and swung him around the back of my neck, my arms lifted and hinged around his torso and knees to keep him balanced on my shoulders.

He screamed in surprise, having suddenly been lifted 6 feet into the air, restrained by my muscular arms. Once he realized it was me, he started laughing energetically, although he still wouldn't stop squirming. Well, he was definitely awake now.

I walked him over into the boy's bathroom and seated him ontop of the covered toilet seat. I bent down, and squatted in front him to be at his eye level. I brushed his messy hair back and looked into his murky brown eyes.

"Get dressed, sport. Come on down and eat some breakfast, and don't wake Max up, got that?" Gazzy grinned widely and nodded proudly. My eyes smiled at him as I stood up again and closed the worn old bathroom door behind me. Next up, Nudge and Angel.

I walked into their ruffly room, it was dark and shaded completely. Like mine, their room was on the opposite side of the hall of Gazzy and Iggy's, and thus the sunlight didn't reach through our windows in them mornings.

The room was uncharacteristically dark and gloomy looking, but glimmers of light rested against the closed curtains. I looked over and saw Nudge engulfed in a deep sleep, my heart feeling like it was softening at the peaceful look on her face. I couldn't bear to wake her. Turning my head, I glanced at Angel, who looked more restless than she.

Walking over to Angel's bed, in which she looked so tiny, I gently put my hand on her waist and rubbed it around in circle on her back until her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and her eyes opened. Rubbing the crust out of her eyes she blinked a few times until she recognized me in the dark.

"Fang?" she asked curiously, tilting her head to one side. I sat down on the edge of her bed, my hand still on her back as she sat up to face me.

"Mhm. Get up, and stay a little quiet please. Max is really tired, so don't wake her up. Come downstairs for breakfast and wake Nudge up after you get out of the bathroom, okay?" I dictated softly and clearly. She looked awake already, and was finger combing her clean waist-length light blonde hair as she nodded in response. She smiled, but then frowned.

"Fang, why did Max get mad at me yesterday?" she asked curiously, raising her eyebrows up on her forehead earnestly.

The question startled me, but I didn't let her know it, despite the fact that she could probably already sense it in my head. What was I supposed to say to her? It took me a second to figure out how I could explain this to her without letting her know too much. And then I changed my mind. This was Angel, she could read minds. Theres no use in keeping anything from her.

I really didn't want to tell her this, but I couldn't avoid it at this point. Better me than Max, I reasoned.

"Angel, I'm having a problem these days and Max is helping me. We're going to fix it very, very soon, but you have to wait until we can, okay?" I explained to her slowly, and seriously. I made sure she heard every word clearly and understood all the implications of what I was saying. She nodded gravely, understanding that I was entrusting her with a secret.

"Okay, Fang. But, but.. I just wanted to help yesterday," she said confusedly. I was taken aback, how was I supposed to explain this? There was something that just wasn't appropriate. Next to all that, she was too young to be burdened with all of these problems. I sighed quietly, looking off to the side before I answered her.

"Yes, Angel, but you shouldn't do that," I said to her sternly.

"Okay, Fang.." she responded sadly, looking down to her hands sitting in her lap, "but.. you liked it. I thought you wanted me to keep doing it. It sounded like it in your head."

I raised my eyebrows threateningly. Precisely why I didn't want to have this discussion with any of the kids: how could I explain something to someone that I, myself, didn't understand completely? Yes, I enjoyed it, but did I _like_ it? Absolutely _not_. How hard is that to explain? You'd be surprised. My voice hardened as I spoke to her.

"No, Angel, I did not," I mustered out dangerously. She looked up at me, and if she were not Angel, any other 5 year old girl would be scared to death. I was regretting the harsh tone of my voice, but I continued to speak steely. "It was uncomfortable, and I needed that to be fixed, Angel. It needed to go away, and you should not have kept doing that," I commanded sternly. She looked down sadly.

"I'm sorry.." she said quietly.

I looked at my feet. No, I shouldn't be getting mad at her. I shouldn't but I was. I was trying to protect her, but all that transcended to was anger.I needed to work on this whole temper-management thing, I thought to myself.

She knew what was going on in my head. I could feel her presence there, sifting through my thoughts as I had been sorting out my words in my mind before I spoke them. She was confused, very confused. How do you enjoy something without liking it?

It was hard to explain, but she knew where her place was. She didn't ask anymore. My eyes shifted from my calloused toes to look at her head, bowed down before me as she stared into her lap.

My gaze softened. I didn't mean for her to feel so upset, but I couldn't help it. It was precisely why she shouldn't have known. She heard my thoughts and I was hoping that she could decipher some of it. I couldn't say it out loud, but I hoped she wouldn't resent me in the future for my words this morning.

I placed my large palm on top of her soft blonde hair that nearly camouflaged in with her pale infantile scalp. The ratio in size thrust a sense of responsibility and obligation unto me. She was so small, her wings so fragile and she didn't even have all of her feathers grown in yet. Most of her limbs were still covered in soft white downy fur.. she was still a child.

My hand slipped down from her silky blonde hair to her cheeks to gently tilt her face up to me. I slid my hand down from there to her shoulder and then her forearm. My length of my hand was larger than the entirety of it. I gazed at the stark comparison in amazement. She was so small, so innocent, so untainted by the world.

No. She _was _tainted. We_ all_ were. It angered me to know that the whitecoats had touched this flawlessly innocent form in the beginning. That the first to ever hold her was Jeb. A sudden wave of anger fell over me. When I found that bastard, I'd kill him. For hurting Max, for hurting these kids, for hurting_ us_. He'd pay. I'd make sure of it. Angel looked up at me, her large eyes swallowing her face.

"Fang, its okay," she said earnestly. I let go of a breath I was holding and nodded to her, my face wiped of all and any emotion.

"Go on, bathroom," I reminded her as I got up from the side of her bed, letting go of her forearm.

She nodded at me happily before she began to untangle to sheets from her thin limbed legs and pull them over to hang over the edge of the mattress. I left their room with the door open behind me and walked down the steps to see where breakfast was.

Iggy was quietly flipping omelets when I got down. I sat down on a stool in front of the kitchen counter, the breakfast table behind me, facing his turned back. I stared at his suddenly uncharacteristically taciturn figure. I waited, but even after two or three minutes, he was still staying quiet like that.

He was flipping systematically and articulately, but if I didn't know better, he would seem like he was concentrating hard. But he didn't need to concentrate on making omelets, especially_ since_ he was Iggy--blind chef extraodinaire.

So the only conclusion left would be that he was thinking hard about _something else_, which couldn't possibly be, since that was Iggy--one track mind, doesnt-know-to-keep-his-mouth-shut-for-anything, Iggy, standing in front of the stove.

"Sup," I said quietly. I wondered if he could catch the curious undertone laced within my greeting. He turned his head around to face the area I was in and responded.

"Hey," he said goodnaturedly.

Not that I didn't mind his usual naturally loud, boisterous, joker personality, but the atmosphere was grotesquely empty without it. Iggy was not the type to find himself lost in thought, as far as I've ever known him—which is definitely a while. You wouldn't ever find him daydreaming or deep in philosophical thoughts about morality and the universe.

What was up with him this particularly morning? I wondered. It was almost like he didn't even realize how strange he was behaving--also weird, considering how hypersensitive he is of the atmosphere. I decided to try and start up a conversation. Unfortunately, its not the area of expertise that I'm most skilled in, nor something I usually needed to have to do around Iggy.

"So I'm letting Max sleep in today, shes mad tired," I mentioned casually. Most people wouldn't know exactly how much caution and thought I put into picking my words and sentences. I paused for a second, assessing any reaction from him before I continued, "I woke up this morning and found her lying asleep on the freaking basement floor."

At that, Iggy turned around to face me immediately, a spatula in one hand. He was adorned with a yellow frilly apron over the old raggedly white shirt hanging limply on his thin shoulders and frame. His glazed over, sightless blue eyes stared me down.

"Crap, what? She fell asleep down _there_? Are you serious?" he asked, alarmed. He eyebrows shot up in worry.

"Yeah, I was just as surprised when I went down there to do my sheets," I continued, watching Iggy carefully, "She hadn't finished up the laundry last night and fell asleep halfway through," I said between bites of the sausage and scallion omelet he had slid towards me a moment ago, my eyes still watching him carefully. Looking down, Iggy untied the apron from behind his back and slung it over a chair next to him before he sat down facing me.

"Crap, whats she thinking?" he asked absentmindedly, almost to himself, before he chugged down half a glass of orange juice. He got to work on his omelet as I reached over and grabbed a second.

It was unusually silent for the next minute or so. I looked up at him questioningly, but Iggy just seemed to be casually working on his third or fourth one. It didn't seem so strange, but he'd usually be a lot more.. huh.. _boisterous_ than that.

"YO Iggs, you alright?" I asked him suddenly, raising an eyebrow. His mouth chewing leisurely, he nodded.

"Why?"

"You seem out of it," I accused.

"Oh." So, he _was_ aware of it. I waited for him to continue. It was silent for a few moments before he began.

"Uh... dude," he started, turning his head both sides to check for noises of anyone coming. Bringing up his shoulders leaning up on the kitchen counter up, he leaned closer towards me, his voice dropping. I looked up at him; it was clear that he wanted to talk about something private.

"Yeah man, I'm here," I responded seriously, giving him my full attention. We were best friends, he could tell me anything. He let out a breath he had seemed to be holding in for a while. He spoke quickly and fervently, his voice still dropping.

"So I had.. this weird—," Suddenly, I turned my head suddenly to hear a loud--

"Whoo-hooo! Do I smell sausages?" coming from the direction of the stairs. Gazzy screamed and then jumped the last five steps, landing with a loud BAM, with the glass table in the den shaking. I furrowed my eyebrows angrily. Nudge followed after him, rolling her eyes, eerily Max-like.

The Gasman excitedly ran over to the kitchen counter and got up on a stool, grabbing three sausages with a few omelets and messily digging in. I stared at him incredulously, my head turning, having followed him. Nudge sat down next to him, just a seat away from Ig, and stared at the Gasman disgustedly before she grabbed four omelets and placed them on her own plate.

Eh, so much for setting the table. I guess we were eating at the counter today. I continued to stare at Gazzy stoically, expecting him to look up and cringe, but he was obviously too preoccupied with stuffing himself to notice. So instead I took the initiative.

"Gazzy, _what _did I tell you about _being quiet_?_" _I said to him through my teeth. I was trying so hard to control my temper, god, I was trying _so_ hard.

Gazzy looked up at me and his cheerful grin slowly and clearly fell down to a frightened one as soon as he assessed my facial expression.

Agh, What's wrong with me? I thought to myself, as I realized that all I'd done this morning is scare kids. I felt Angel's presence in my head. She was disappointed in me. You know you're doing something wrong when ethically-gray five-year-olds impose their moral values on you.

I leaned back into my chair, still looking at Gazzy. I had a right to be angry with him, but he didn't have to interpret it so perniciously. Well, I suppose I couldn't blame him. Its not often that I actually get angry enough to show it.

Thinking back to what I'd done earlier in the morning with Angel, I mentally shrugged. I already did one kid, might as well start being honest with the other. Max would definitely not agree with me on this point, but the kids seriously need to start facing the world. Sure they don't remember as much of the horrors of the school as we did, but we can't shelter them forever. They aren't dumb, and we can speak english to them and they'll understand. Afterall, we're the ones raising them; they're imprinting on us.

"Look Gas, Max is really tired, I want to make sure she can sleep in. I really don't want you guys to disturb her. She works hard. For all of us," I said steely. I broke my words as I spoke, looking around the counter at all of them. "She deserves a break." Gazzy didn't look so frightened of me anymore, to my great relief. Afterall, no one wants to face the wrath of a condescending Angel.

"Sorry, Fang," he apologized, sounding superlatively guilty.

"Its alright Gasman, lets eat," I said, surprising myself with the level of inherent leaderness present in my voice.

We dug into Iggy's great breakfast as the normal chatter and laughing began to break out around the table. That occurrence was to my great relief as I had been beginning to think that without Max, the flock would just completely break down, what with the weird pensiveness radiating from Iggy in the morning and the two small kids I've already managed to scare.

Man, I seriously don't think I'm cut out for this whole leadernism-thing. One morning was fine, but doing this everyday would make me want to crack a neck or something.

An hour or two later, we were still sitting around the kitchen counter idly talking around in a circle, and I was mentally checking the sound of our laughter to make sure it wouldn't reach up past the stairs. We didn't usually do this—just sit around in the morning and talk around empty plates. The kids would usually just go off and find something to amuse themselves with after the dishes were done, but I had told them that they couldn't go upstairs this morning.

"You're being rather restrictive you know," Angel commented in my head.

"And where did you learn such big words?" I asked playfully.

"Iggy!" she exclaimed delightfully. Her childlike voice in itself made my heart feel lighter despite the fact that she wasn't supposed to be in my head in the first place.

"Well do you really mind? What would you have to do upstairs anyhow?" I asked her out loud. Gazzy and Nudge were giggling in sheer delight as they tied girly ponytails in Iggy's frisky hair.

He simply smiled, interjecting a comment here and there, letting them mess around as he honestly couldn't care less as to how he looked. At least Iggy wasn't being weirdly quiet anymore. He was back to his boisterous self.

I worriedly realized he hadn't finished telling me whatever it was that he was going to before Gazzy jumped into the scene.

Angel smiled in response to my question, her eyes closing with the impact of her wide grin. I smirked, looking away as I heard a shuffle come from near the stairs. Max drearily walked down, her head resembling something of a tree stump. She patted it down as she walked down the steps. She was rubbing her forehead as she walked towards us, and she had changed out of the clothes she had been wearing yesterday before she came down. She was now in a large t-shirt reaching halfway down to her knees. She sat down quietly, blinking a few times before she confusedly looked up at all of us. Sitting beside her, Gazzy was obviously having a tough time suppressing his snickers.

He didn't even know what he was laughing at, I noted amusedly. It was Gazzy afterall. Who gets that kid's sense of humor? He'll laugh at a bug.

My chin sitting on my palm and leaning over on the counter, I looked at her bemusedly. I was just waiting for the outburst. Instead, Max continued to look around confusedly. She seemed rather disoriented.

"..Man, what time is it?" she asked, still rubbing her forehead. Gazzy snickered some more.

"Heh, its half past one Max," Iggy said helpfully, a large grin on his face. I amusedly noted that that made him look all the more ridiculous, with eight 1-inch ponytails on his scalp. Max looked up at him when he spoke, and her face immediately contorted into confusion.

"Igs, you look ridiculous," she informed him, with an eyebrow cocked way up high. Ah, it seemed like she was beginning to wake up now. She looked around the table to see the empty dishes, as Gazzy passed her a plate we'd saved for her.

"Ugh, someone, please do the dishes," she said disgustedly, staring at them.

"Ay ay cap'n," Iggy said with a salute. The further ridiculous gesture didn't help his already effeminate image any. "Nudge, you do it," he promptly commanded.

Nudge rolled her eyes at Iggy, but got up to gather the dishes nevertheless. I smiled in my head, she was always a good sport about things. Max stared at Iggy, who was still retaining his ridiculousness, and didn't look amused. I observed the exchange. It was all entertaining to me. In fact, I realized that nearly all of what Max did amused me in some way. She was just fun to laugh at, her gestures, her remarks, her facial expressions, her sighs, her screams, her rants, her whimpers.. they never failed to amuse me. I realized how much of a tangent my thoughts were trailing off as Max cut them off suddenly.

"Fang, why didn't you wake me up?" she asked angrily. Oh, there we go. Theres that outburst I was awaiting for. Curiously enough, it wasn't as haughty as I had expected it to be. How disappointing, I noted.

I shrugged. I could see the irritation grow on her face. That was fun.

She threw me a glare before she started mumbling to herself as she wiped Gazzy's chin. Leaving two omelets on her plate unfinished, she got up and walked downstairs to the basement, looking like she was running things through her head. I watched her go, my head still sitting on my hands lazily. Sooner or later, she'd find out that the laundry was already done. I waited, watching the clock above the kitchen stove.

Three.. Two.. One..

She reached the top of the stairs 10 seconds later and sat down again at her seat, finishing up those two omelets. There was a look of confusion on her face, and she was mentally calculating something out.

"I guess I must've finished the laundry last night. Weird that I don't remember. Man, I must've been really tired to blank.." she commented idly as she chewed. Iggy turned towards me and shot me a look. I would've shrugged at him if it'd mattered.

Angel and Nudge had gone upstairs already, but Gazzy was still at the table, experimentally pouring out some BBQ sauce and dipping some peas in. Iggy meanwhile, was pulling the hair ties out, cringing and making small "ow" sounds in the background.

I looked bored, I was guessing, although I wasn't really. It was hard to be bored to the extent of disenjoyment. Boredom isn't such a bad thing, if you ask me. But I was observing Max. That was never boring. She cleaned her plate and then sat back, making eye contact with me, her face too, sitting on her palms.

"Ugh, this feels like such a waste of a day. You should've woken me," she accused. I shrugged. It wouldn't be a waste of a day for me. I had plans, after all. I stared her for a moment longer.

"The fridge is nearly empty" I said quietly, turning my head to look away from her. She knew what I meant. I already knew I had to go into town today since yesterday, when Iggy had told me that we were running out of food in the morning while he was packing up stuff for the picnic lunch and dinner.

Her head turned the other way, she observed me from the corner of her eyes, obviously thinking I was going to bring up the whole bringing-Nudge-and-letting-the-kids-see-the-town issue again. Naw, I wasn't in the mood to be _particularly_ naggy. I ignored the paranoia of hers that drew lines of irritation on her face targeted towards me. On some level, she downright offended me, and so I silently ignored it.

Half of the reason she was growing frown lines on her face were from simple assumptions. It made me feel guilty, yes, but was it really my fault? Sometimes it felt like it was, but sometimes--like right now--it felt like it was just her domineering attitude and a self-destructive humanistic nature.

"What do you need?" I asked suavely, ignoring the disapproving look on her face. Dear god, I wasn't even suggesting that I wanted to bring Nudge into town today and she was being a tightass anyway. It was beginning to really irritate me.

Iggy grabbed a pencil from the counter and handed it to Max as he began to list some ingredients. Max hesitated for a moment before she began to jot things down. It was an inevitable fact that we needed resources to survive. She definitely couldn't argue with that.

"....and... hairspray," Iggy finished. Max looked up and glared at him for that last one. He grinned stupidly.

"Wha-at? I need it for what I'm planning," he replied. She shook her head in retaliation, and wrote that down on the list too.

"Didn't you say you were gonna use our toaster?" she asked him.

"Oh yeah. And a toaster. Fang, make sure you get a toaster."

"Why do we need a toaster? We already have a toaster," I drawled.

"I'm throwing a prank on Gazzy and I need to use our toaster," he explained excitedly in a rush, to make sure Gazzy wasn't in earshot.

"He's dying his skin purple," Max said irritably, still writing something down on the piece of paper. I looked at Iggy questioningly.

"Well, its only temporary, but it doesn't help that I told him a few days ago that birds turn purple before their wings start to fall off and turn into fins and, or claws."

Nudge walked in and gasped.

"Iggy! Thats horrible!!" she exclaimed. Iggy cursed underneath his breath, to which he received a well-placed kick beneath the table from Max, eliciting a large "OW," from his mouth before he turned to explain to Nudge.

"Please, please, don't tell him, okay?" Iggy begged her, his hands clasped together. It was amusing to see him like that. The extents he and Gassers went to for the sake of fun. What a relationship.

Nudge sighed irritatedly, and I absentmindedly noted how much more and more like Max she'd been becoming like lately. She was growing up some, definitely.

"Fine, whatever. Its like, totally not my problem." she said to him breathlessly, turning away. "But don't expect me to help!!" she called out before she stepped out into the backyard. Sitting back down on his seat Iggy cursed again. (To which he received another well placed kick to his shins, eliciting yet another "OW" from his mouth).

"Damnit, I wanted to ask her for that stuffed rhinoceroses.. now what'm I supposed to do?" Iggy started rambling to himself. It was at this point the rest of us are cued to zone him out.

I looked over to Max expectantly. She scribbled a few more things down and then handed me the list. I took it from her hand and looked down. She'd added a few more things.

Gazzy had walked by us a while ago and reminded her to get some bigger shirts, a comment to which she had started blushing profusely. There were also a few miscellaneous things. Like bleach, some white paint, styrofoam, some wood; we needed to fix that hole in the ceiling Gazzy and Iggy had blown out last week, I recalled. I nodded at the list and looked back up at her.

"Cool. I'm going then. I might be back late," I said to her before I got up to stand. She frowned.

"Late?" she asked, confused. She cocked an eyebrow up, expecting an explanation.

It was not a comment I usually made. Not that there were set time spans for me to come home or anything, but it usually never took me more than an hour or two to fly down the hills and the mountains and do all the shopping in town and come back up. I expected I'd be out later today though.

"Why?" she asked.

"I, uh, I'm gonna do some research. I think I'll go check out the library. See what the deal is with whats been happening," I said, my voice dropping, letting her know exactly what I was referring to.

Max's face suddenly grew serious and she nodded determinedly. She looked like she'd like to come. She looked as if she was conflicted between the flock and our house and actually joining me down there for what she was completely against. I didn't care for watching her emotions play it out on her face and turned around, walking back up the stairs to get some clothes to change into before I showered.

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Wow, you guys are really really _really_ awesome. !

BECAUSE YOU GUYS REVIEWED SO MUCH I UPDATED SO SOON!

HAPPY ME = UPDATES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I didn't think I'd actually be able to get up to it but you guys are great! And it happened so quickly ! I hope you guys keeps reviewing too!

This is the shortest update interval i've ever done, cause the more feedback i get, the more prepared i feel to post up another chapter, and thats why i put this up so early!

Someone told me that having thoughts in large clumps is harder to read, so I spent a considerable amount of time spacing out sentences with that glorious little enter button in this chapter. Do you think its easier to read now? Its easier for me to write in large clumps of paragraphs. But if its irritating to the eye for you guys, I'll try to make my chapters a bit more spaced out.

The next chapter isnt a pt1/pt2 chapter, so why did I ask about this? Its because Chapter 15 is really really really really really short.

I thought you guys might be dissatisfied with such a short chapter, which is why I offered to post Ch.16 along with it.

But in your reviews, you guys said that I should put up two chapters and more feedback. And the majority said that they'd rather two chapters so that they dont get a teeny tiny scrollbar.

But seriously, Ch. 15 is just pathetically short. It says everything in it that I want it to say, its just you know--not a very large, momentous, time-consuming thing that I need to say. Which is why I didn't need alot of space to write it.

But how about this? I'll add something onto Ch.15 to make it little bit longer if you guys give me a good amount of feedback on what you think about_ this _one.

So if you want the next chapter to be longer than you guys should give me some feedback on this story! =)

I got alot of compliments on Fang's POV in the last chapter, so thanks alot, i'm really flattered!

I really hope I did him justice in this chapter, and I'm just warning you, a LARGE part of the beginning of the second arc is in Fang's point of view, and this chapter begins the Second Arc! If I'm doing something wrong with Fang right now, you should tell me RIGHT NOW, so that I don't continue to do it later on and mess it up! If I add something onto Ch.15, it will probably be something in Max's POV for a change to relieve you guys of all the impending Fang-thoughts (and not just simply Max's thoughts on the things around her, but simply sheerly, Max herself and alone--which is something you guys have been asking me for).

I'll do this if I get enough reviews on this chapter, so that I'm sure people actually want something that has Max divulging into herself. I have to like, take time out of my day to write an addition onto Ch.15, and I'll see how much of a response I get to this Author's Note and if I do get a good amount of positive feedback, then I'll decide to put some time aside to add on whatever you want to this story for you guys. =)

You guys are awesome, and I hope you guys keep making me HAPPY!!!! =D

Aha. I promise. This is the last epicly long A/N. Sorry. _

These aren't ultimatums btw, these are just _personal goals_. I will always update regardless. Usually, I'll just update right after I'm happy with the amount of feedback I'm getting though. And since there was such a large influx of feedback these past 3 days.. well after I tweaked some chapters in accordance to what you guys have said, I immediately posted this chapter up. =)

Giving me feedback, is not because I'm writing for reviews. I am definately NOT writing only for reviews. But giving me feedback makes me more confidant in what I'm writing, so its good for you (because updates are faster) and good for me _and_ you (because the writing is better).


	15. Someone Just So Beautiful

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Fifteen**: Someone So Beautiful

I ran my hands through my scalp in the shower, rubbing some soap into it, thinking about how much Max could piss me off sometimes, like she had just done downstairs. And she couldn't even tell how irritating she was being either. Its amazing, isn't it? Max is amazing, I thought incredulously. On _so_ many different levels.

She could be so fucking insensitive. Its amazing. How dense can you get..? Its almost as if she didn't have that inherently human capability in her to see through subtlety. Man, she certainly was.. huh, amazing, on _so_ many levels. Next to that body, I mean..

I closed my eyes shut in frustration. The water droplets weakly streaming out from the shower head ran down the folds on my eyes and seeped through the long dark eyelashes that Gassers nor Angel had. Man, what was my _issue_? I don't even know how or why that mental image found its way into my brain.

Huh. No, well thats sort of a lie. I sort of knew. Afterall, the image of her sitting on the forest floor yesterday.. it'd been running through me nonstop, constantly. I couldn't look at her without thinking of her pulling one of those... to the side.. and it bouncing back.. I felt a tingling sensation down below and mentally groaned.

Before, it had been confusing. Before, it had been scary--something unknown.

But_ now_, this was just getting to be _annoying_.

It wasn't debilitating anymore, but just inconvenient.

The water still running down me, I turned to the side to lean my hand against the side of the shower. My fingers didn't even tremble against the cool, wet, white shower tiles as I began to go up and down. I looked down and watched my fingers slide up and down.. I found myself slowing down as I did it, watching my fingers send pleasure through my bones. It stopped feeling so weird.. I stopped _feeling bad, guilty_, I dont know _what _it was that I was feeling before, but I know that its stopped. It was irritating at times, uncomfortable, inconvenient _frequently_, but god it felt so damn good.

Leaning against the wall, the water still beating down on my hard back, I started to go faster, willing those images of Max to come riding back into my mind, thinking of her when she was flying that day first day we picnicked, thinking of her hands on me. I released with a shudder, turning around and slumping against the wall. Whipping my wet hair from my face towards the back of my neck, I breathed heavily against the hot impact of what had just flown through me.

Max was still fresh on my mind. I didn't know why I had been thinking about her in this way so frequently these days, but all I knew is that.. I wanted to see more.. I wanted _her_ more. It felt like a weird, primal instinct. Maybe it was the 2% bird part of me. But it was.. bad, for some reason. Somewhere deep inside me, it felt like I should be restraining myself. That all that was coming over me, all these strange, incredible urges, that I should be resisting them.

... But why?

I reached over and turned off the water, the water dripping from the broken, and then mended, shower head slowly coming to a halt as I stepped out of the tub I had been standing in, successfully staining the bathroom doormat wet with water. It didn't matter though, Max didn't use this bathroom and so couldn't complain. Iggy and Gaz would have to deal with it, cause I couldn't find my towel. I'd probably thrown it into the dryer this morning and forgotten to take it out after I did the last load, the one with all of my messed-up sheets.

I walked over to the mirror sitting above the sink, still dripping all over the floor, clad in my birthday suit. I could only see my head down to my middle torso. I whipped my hair back on my head again and looked at myself in the mirror. For the first time, I really assessed myself. As a personality, no, but as a person, aesthetically oriented. As... a guy. The same way that Max.. was.. a girl.

It was pretty amazing.. its like I had never actually known she was one until a few months ago. I'm sure she had always flipped her hair in the same way. I'm sure her skin had always been that soft. I'm sure her eyes had always been that cute when they crinkled up as she laughed. I'm sure that she had always been like that, cause I'd always been there. I'd always noticed those things.. but I'd never actually.. really.. _noticed._ I'm sure her body had always been be full of hidden secrets, but only now it was truly so tantalizing. Its like I just never had noticed. Never.. cared. It had never mattered to me.. until now.

Now it mattered that her breasts looked round and soft, that her eyes made me feel weird things when she sent me certain looks. It mattered to me when she'd stare just a second longer at me. It mattered when she would accidentally brush up against me. I was hypersensitive of anything and everything that she did, and it was killing me.

Life was so much easier back when stuff like this didn't happen, I thought wearily, thinking back to what I had just done in the shower.

It was all trouble now. Think about Max for a second, think about her body the next, and then your pants start getting too tight for you to breath in. Messy and irritable, what else?

I needed to get away from her. All I was doing was giving her trouble anyway, although in my defense, she was the one butting into all this shit. She was so beautiful, she didn't deserve this, she didn't need this.

No, I was wrong. She wasn't a girl. Back when we were younger and watched television, Max didn't look a thing like those grown-up woman on tv. But now she did. She was a woman.

I looked back up into the mirror, deep into my eyes. I wonder what she saw when she looked at them. Did she see everything that I saw in her eyes? Could she read my face the way that I could read hers? Did she even really care about me? That I was a guy?

Soon, I'd be a.. a, man, I dangerously thought. It was a word, said timidly in my mind, but said nonetheless. I don't look as similar to a kid now than I do a grown-up. I examined my face thoroughly. I think I needed to, whatsthe-word? Shave. Thats what Jeb did. I think Iggy needs to too.. more than I do, actually. Absentmindedly, I wondered why this stuff wasn't happening to Iggy. Knowing him, I'm sure that if it was happening, we'd know by now.

I would go into Jeb's old room and get the black thing he'd plug into the wall every morning out, but I didn't want to touch that bastard's stuff. Its gross. That man is nothing to us now.. We can take care of ourselves.. and Max.. I can't believe she had another dream about him the night before yesterday. That in itself disappoints me, and she had seemed so distraught.. She didn't need him. If she needed someone to rely on.. that could be me, or so I dared to believe. Maybe I'd go out and get something to shave the facial hair off with today, if I could find anything.

I looked in the mirror, trying to see a man. Jeb was an adult, he was someone to rely on, he was an adult, a man. I scoffed. Not a very dependable one, apparently. I wouldn't be like that. But the person I saw staring back at me paled in comparison to the memory I had of Jeb. The boy looking back at me looked thin and tense, insecure, wet and cold. He looked like a child, a pathetic excuse of an adult, ill-groomed and shivering. His shoulders were thin, the muscles on his biceps visible, but not well established. I looked down to my forearms, bringing it up to my eye level as I clenched my fist.

Weak, this was weak. I needed to work harder.. I needed to stop making Max worry more. She shouldn't have to worry about me, of all people. Not me. She needed to stop being such a dumbass sometimes. She was Maximum Ride, smart, intelligent, beautiful. But why was she so dumb sometimes. I sighed, turning around to lean against the white bathroom sink of the boy's washroom, the cupboard below slowly hitting the cool bare skin of my buttocks.

I lazily put on a pair of loose, baggy, dark pajama pants over some boxers and a white t-shirt over my head. I put my hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it, but took my hand back.

I wanted to see something.

A few seconds later, I walked out into the hallway, spotting Max and walking towards her casually. I smirked as I saw her eyes travel down me.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" I asked her quietly as I walked past her. I could practically feel her indignant blush fuming behind me. She probably looked like a tomato right now, having been caught in the act.

I stepped into my room, throwing the white shirt that had been bunched up in my hand over a desk chair. I threw myself onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling and smirking.

So, I wasn't so abnormal. It worked both ways. Max liked looking at me, and I liked looking at her, and both ways, it was so hard to hide it. I'd figure out this stuff after I came back. Hopefully I'd know more by then.

I stretched before I got up and went down to the kitchen to pick up something to eat and the credit card before I left. First though, I went down to the basement and snuck my laundry back up to my room. Found my towel in that pile, and changed into a t-shirt. Max would definitely kill me for not wearing a shirt once she got over that phase where her face gets all red. Though she's often rather disoriented afterwards. I shrugged absentmindedly in retaliation before I stepped out to walk down the stairs to the kitchen.

Igs was watching tv, a rerun of some football game, and was making Gazzy dictate all of the runs to him play by play. He was groaning and shouting enthusiastically as Gazzy described all of the plays to him and kept track of the scores, making sure to cite out any colorful words and replace them with more ridiculous euphemisms to avoid getting smacked.

I smirked as I swiveled my head away from him, 45 degrees to see Max around the kitchen counter. The list she and Iggy had made for me, full of stuff to buy, was sitting on the counter her back was facing. She had gotten the credit card out and put it near the list. I went over to the kitchen counter and sat across from her turned back, waiting for her to notice me. She knew I was there, she was just taking her sweet time to give me some attention.

At long last, or perhaps just a few minutes, she turned around, her face purposefully cleared of any restless emotions to look at me apathetically.

"You goin' out now?" she asked over-casually, her arms adorned with large pink rubber gloves.

I glanced at her for a moment, squinting, and then moved my gaze to observe the area to her left. Light drops were splattering against the kitchen window. I looked up a bit higher to assess the sky. Yup, rain. And it looked like it had just been starting to fall. It'd get worse. I looked back to Max.

She was just delaying my leaving and she knew perfectly well of the crappy weather. Ah well. Its not that I particularly cared, it's just that I'd have to go do this shit _eventually_ anyway. She had been subtly asking me if I still planned on going out. I mulled it over for just a second, but the fact of the matter was that the fridge was pretty empty right now, and it was a responsibility to keep those kids from being malnourished.

"Yeah.. just gimme something to eat and then I'll get ready," I replied apathetically.

She shrugged at my obvious ignorance of the crap weather, probably sort of peeved that I didn't take her oh-so _incredibly_ subtle suggestion into any consideration whatsoever. Well, whatever; my problem, not hers.

She turned around and started putting something together. Cold-cut, I was guessing. She was crap in the kitchen. I absentmindedly wondered about whether or not I should've just done it myself, but changed my mind. Whatever, foods' food, regardless of how.. uh.. awful, it is.

I looked at the window to note larger splatters hitting the pane now. The light and scattered drizzles turning into a fledging shower, the thick drops making a drum beat against the weak-willed, but experienced, glass piece.

Max slid me a plate with a bag of wonderbread sitting on top of it along with a knife and some butter. So it wasn't cold cut, it was just a pile of packaged stuff pulled out of the fridge that she hadn't even bothered to prepare. Absentmindedly I realized that I probably wouldnt've wanted her to prepare it anyway. How could someone mess up buttering bread? No idea, but Max can do it. Amazing, yes, beautiful, yes, but definitely no cook.

I shrugged, took it, and got to work. Iggy suddenly turned around, swinging his hand over the back of our living room couch and said to me, "oh and for the bread on the list, cross it out and write a note. That wonderbread sucks, get some potato, no wheat," he specified. I grunted a compliant response as I buttered and downed my 5th piece of bread. It was creepy how much that _blind_ kid could tell.. yaknow, being_ blind_ and all.

I went upstairs and changed into some clothes for going out, throwing a windbreaker over my back before I went back down and grabbed the list and the card, kissing Angel on the forehead before heading out the door into the dark, rainy skies over the Colorado mountain tops.

Angel had pouted an endearing grimace when I had kissed her, still grumpy for me being irritable this morning, but I'd make it up to her when I went into town. She had abruptly and stubbornly walked away from me after I had done that, crossing her small 4-year old arms cutely and stomping up the stairs.

I was just about to head out the door after watching her walk away from me, a tiny smile on my face at her antics, but right as I was about to slam the door shut behind me to prevent any rain from splattering into the house, I felt tiny eyes on my back and abruptly turned around to spot Max staring at me leave.

She was taken aback by my sudden pointed eye contact, as I had suddenly stopped in my tracks and turned around to look at her. The soles of my shoes that had already gotten quite wet and rather muddy, left imprints on the multi-tiled floor as I walked back towards her.

With her arms adorned with large pink rubber gloves (she had been cleaning the racks in the ovens for Iggy, since he had put meat on the list and we needed a clean oven), she curiously watched me walk towards her. I could see a miniscule vein twitch in her forehead as I walked forward, leaving wet, muddy footsteps on the floor. Luckily, I didn't have to be here to clean up the footprints I was leaving. And at least I wasn't going into the carpeted den a few feet away from the kitchen, where Gazzy and Iggy were hanging out. Then she'd definitely throw a fit.

Walking around the corner, I quickly brought my hand around her head to caress her hair, and then shoved it towards me, pushing her forehead against my lips. I closed my eyes for a moment, relishing in the feeling. I could feel her forehead wrinkling in confusion tight against me, her hands still raised up over the sink in the middle of the kitchen counter, but I kept holding her for just one more moment. Finally, I walked away without a word. The door slammed shut behind me as I stepped outside into the pouring rain. I saw Gazzy cock his eyebrow weirdly at what I had just done through the windows. I felt like a weird psuedo-version of Jeb now. And I knew Max was confused.

I really had to stop giving in to those weird, incredible urges.

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Sorry for the epically short chapter... I'm just preparing myself to write something that _I.. dont really want to write_.

But sorry that I didn't add the extra in Max's POV at the end of the chapter. I didn't really have time and I wasn't really sure how to go about it smoothly. But don't worry, I'll make it up to you guys soon.

But, say hello to plot progression coming with the next chapters. Its like hitting a tidal wave thats about to sink.

Its ultra important, something not all of you may be happy with (heck, i'm not happy with what i have to write), but, once again, necessary.

Encouragement would help support me for that ePic task.. so please review! =( I hope I make it good, cause it can go one way or another. If its bad.. then it'll be really, really, really bad. =(

Aah.. I hope I make it good.. __

Survey:

What song do you think would describe this story? Like the soundtrack for it. (I know how horribly corny that sounds, but I dunno..)

I've been thinking about it, but I'm not too sure. What do you guys think? I really can't get a feel for this story, since you know--its totally different since_ I'm_ actually writing it, rather than just reading it. And I'm a newbie and have never written one before this, so I'm curious as to what the feel of it is to my audience. =)

Please give me your opinions/suggestions! I'd love to hear back!! It'd be cool to check out some of the music you guys suggest too!! =DD

please review =) happy, well-informed me = faster updates! (and no, i'm not lying here. last week i literally updated in 2-day intervals because the amount of feedback i was getting was so plentiful).


	16. Meeting Brigid Pt 1

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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**Chapter Sixteen**: Meeting Brigid Pt 1

I waited on line at the supermarket, Aisle 6, thats the line I always went on. There was a nice girl who'd always give me a discount. I had lifted all of the merchandise I'd picked out onto the black belt that moved everything forward, quietly waiting for the cashier to finish ringing up the old man standing in front of me.

The flight into town was a rough one, rain beating harshly down onto my back and the muscles beneath my thick, coarse, black wings. I couldn't fly above those cumulus clouds since I was riding on a negative slope, racing down the jagged edges of the mountain sides, to get into town. I walked into the supermarket sopping wet.

I got in around 5:30, tight on time. I had veered off on my flight, despite the fact that it was pouring, I flew past town and took a flight aimlessly wandering around the dark cloudy skies. I needed some time to myself, but it didn't help. I just kept thinking about Max.

So now it was too late, the library must already be closing by now, I thought as I waited on line. Couldn't do the most important thing I had come out here and meant to do today. I'd probably have to come back tomorrow to try and see if I can figure out whats up with this stuff. Max wouldn't be too happy about that. But its not her area to disapprove; after all, I was the one who took the initiative to check things out.

Max had a problem with that, butting in.

I looked down to the conveyor belt that was slowly inching forward. My hair was still slightly saturated from the rain outside, and the dark strands of my bangs fell in front of my eyes. I needed to get a haircut, I thought absentmindedly.

The droplets of rain on my windbreaker weren't as numerous as they were before, having evaporated away during the 40 or 50 good minutes I spent picking things out. There was loaves of bread, couple cartons of orange juice. Some deli meat that I'd ordered, I got a packet of briefs for Gazzy, a large lollipop for Angel. It had been on sale, and I knew that she'd immediately forgive me for the discussion this morning once she sees it; her large blue eyes would begin sparkling savory and then she'd just pounce on me with a big hug, just hanging off of my neck. I chuckled at the thought; I really lived for this flock.

I saw a nice shirt in the clothing department that Nudge would've liked too—it was purple and had a big rhinestone butterfly on its front—and picked it up; it had been cheap too.

If you were wondering why we bargain-shopped, its cause, well, we don't know where this money is coming from. We don't know if it'll run out someday, so its better to be on the safe side. Though I'm sure that if it were Max who was in charge of shopping, she'd go cheap to the extent of us living in a cardboard box chewing on motzah, on the reasoning of being farsighted.

At least I bothered to buy things casually, like a simple shirt for Nudge that she'd like despite that she doesn't actually need it, or a new car for Gazzy's toy collection.

Max definitely appreciated that, because had she been here, she wouldn't be able to do something like that herself, and we both knew it. Which is why it was altogether better for me to go into town. I could keep cool and levelheaded, stay safe and aware, rather than just be destructively paranoid.

I had gotten the hairspray that Iggy had asked for, but there were a bunch of choices on the shelves, so I was completely lost and simply picked one at random. I hoped it would work for him, but then changed my mind. We wouldn't want poor Gazzy's skin to stay purple forever, now would we?

There was a packet of t-shirts, generic white Hanes ones, sitting ontop of the conveyor belt too, for Max. They were size L, which was pretty ridiculous, considering they'd probably hang off of her. She wore a medium usually, and I got the feeling that no matter how large shirts she wore, it'd still be tight around the front and show those dots, and I couldn't honestly say that I cared if they did show. What I_ did_ care about was how she reacted when Iggy touched her chest.

But thats besides the point. There were also a few jars of strawberry jam, some 4x13x1 blocks of wood I'd picked up from the housewares department, a can of white paint, and a small bottle of bleach for the laundry.

Looking around boringly, I absentmindedly stared at the magazine rack adjacent to the cashier behind me. I casually picked one up and threw it onto the pile of stuff. Nudge seemed to like that sort of stuff.

I had been looking through the toasters in the kitchen appliances aisle, but couldn't find any that I liked. No, I just didn't care enough to pick one out. I didn't really want to lug one up tonight anyway. I'd have to come back tomorrow to go to the library anyway, I decided. I'd get one then. Iggy could delay his project for one afternoon.

Moving forward a few inches, the cashier began to ring my items up now. I had picked up a health magazine and began to read an article on how detrimental dieting was to maintaining muscle mass as I heard the beeps sound in front of me. My thoughts seemed to travel far away from me, and I was abruptly woken up to a start as the girl spoke to me.

"Hey?" she asked questioningly.

I looked up at her. She cocked her eyebrow up. It must've been the second or third time she'd spoken.

My head was sort of spinning right now anyway, I'd been thinking too hard during that drenching flight. The entire time I had been shopping, I'd just been throwing random shit into the cart. Looking down at the stuff piled on the conveyor belt in front of me, I realized how frivolous and careless I had been with picking stuff out.

You couldn't blame me, I just wasn't in the mood right then anyway. I didn't really want to do this, so you couldn't really help it.

I wasn't in the mood to do chores, although I'd never really considered grocery shopping a chore since it'd always been exciting, enthralling, something distinctly _different_ for me when I went into town. It was, dare I say it, fun—which is why I wanted to bring Nudge. But with all this shit piling up and hitting the fan these past few days.. everything just felt inherently tiresome.

Just the same old routine over and over again, just with more crap piled on top. I knew how Max was feeling, I knew how shifty, moody, apprehensive, cold, distant, indecisive, I was acting. And I knew how I was being sort of a pain with my hot and cold attitudes toward her. But I couldn't help it, and it felt like it was just killing me inside, cause I was doing exactly what I didn't want to do to her.

Self-destructive, certainly. If only I had an ounce of negative feedback in me, to keep my emotions stable.

Yes, and contrary to popular belief, theres probably more of that shit in me than anyone else in this flock.

I've got too much space to think in, and sometimes it just sucks, to think and to know, and deal with things, mulling it over in your head constantly and so frequently, it just sucks. And though it may not seem so, I probably do have more conflicting emotions in my head than anyone else in that house. Except perhaps, maybe for Iggy, 'cause who knows what goes on in a blind kid's head?

When I had been walking through the aisles of the pharmaceuticals department, I'd noticed an ad for these things called dopamine. Things to control the hormones that gave you mood swings. Mentally, I had scoffed, Max would be tempted to buy me some, had it been so that she were there. I shook my head in retaliation. Suddenly I realized the cashier was still saying something to me, I lifted my head up to look up at her.

"Umm.. hey.." she said sort of nervously for the second or third time.

It was apparent on her face that she was beginning to doublethink opening her mouth beforehand; it looked like she was doubting herself entirely.

Or maybe she was nervous because of the quiet guy staring at her face so intently. Oh yeah, that was me. Bad habit, really, but I couldn't help it. It was easy to read people, and it was sort of fun in some sense. Especially out in.. in the world. There were so many different types of people.

Max was right in some sense though, cause you couldn't always help but feel.. just a little bit detached from it all. It was like looking in through a window at the world around you, something you weren't a part of, but simply observing, the way a hawk would observe it's intended prey before taking pity on it and flying away.

Nevertheless, I continued to look at her blankly. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? She wasn't _saying_ anything. _Tell me_ that that doesn't irritate you? I saw her eyes look down hesitantly, as if seriously embarrassed now.

Her long eyelashes seemed to brush against the bridges of her high cheekbones as she looked to the side, fiddling with the plastic bag in her hands. I cocked my eyebrow up lazily, irritatedly, my upper lip lifted up a few millimeters in a small grimace and my eyes glanced down at her. Sure, it was rude, I suppose, but she was wasting my time. And its not as if I ever cared for manners anyhow. I saw her neck twitch as she took a gulp.

"Oh come on, you must be kidding me!" The middle-aged asian woman standing next to me in line complained.

In my peripheral vision, I saw her pull her cart out of the aisle in frustration and move to the cashier behind me who had an empty line.

I looked up at the girl again, crossing my arms against my chest, waiting for her to freaking finish ringing my items up. I was not in the mood for this, I just wanted to get home and fucking sleep these thoughts off and out of my head. Come up with some sort of solution, soon, to get Max to stop worrying, to give us all a bit of peace.

I glared at her.

"So, um, I see you around here pretty often," she finally said.

She spoke carefully, her eyes open wide, large and doe-like. She was cautious, nearly intimidated by me. Hah, what a joke, I thought. But then I changed my mind; she _should_ be scared of me, a sudden epiphany spoke, settling stones of guilt deep in my stomach where those butterflies should flutter.

My glare loosened up. There weren't any ill-intentions here. She was just a girl. There wasn't any use in being a bitch to her. Mentally, I groaned. I needed to get a fix.

One day, and I've managed to scare the shits out of two tiny kids, be completely useless to one of my best friends when he needed someone to talk to, cause I was too preoccupied with a girl I'm not supposed to be hopelessly infatuated with—the same girl I'm also making miserable with worry. And now I'm making some random person that I don't even know shit their pants in fear. What was freaking _wrong_ with me?

I hesitantly took my jaw out of the tight angle it had been set in, my glare receding back into the recesses of my mind. She was now faced with a blank stare; and at least it wasn't awful. She started looking nervous again.

Absentmindedly, I wondered why she _still_ hadn't bagged that thing sitting on the scanner that had _been_ sitting on the scanner for the past two minutes. She kept fiddling with the plastic in her hands.

"So, you like, live around here or somethin'?" she asked, looking down this time.

She was shy now; her voice was quieter this time around. My gaze softened as I looked at her, because she was definitely feeling dumb right now. My neck tilt and bent to her eye level, my eyes trying to peek up at her through her straight, neat, deep auburn-red bangs that she was trying to cover her face with.

"Yeah, you could say that," I responded softly, casually. She looked up at me quickly, startled at the actual non-lack of response, if that made any sense.

Suddenly a large grin graced her face. It made me feel sort of good somewhere inside. At least I wasn't a total fuck up. I was trying, and it worked. I don't need to make everyone's life hopelessly dreadful. Hey, I thought to myself, maybe this was a new step. Hope filled me as I thought about how I might even be able to put smiles like that on Max's face soon.

I just.. I just, needed to try. Like I had tried right now. Its amazing how a few simple words can light someone up.. it was so easy, and for a second I felt disappointed in myself for being too stupid to bother trying usually. In some sense, it may just come off that I just don't care. But that wasn't true. I cared, a lot. Max and the flock, they were everything to me.

The girl looked up, smiling at me. I nearly willed myself to smile back.. Just try, Fang, I said to myself. I closed my eyes and opened them again in a blink, suddenly sending her a.. uh.. _non_-hostile gaze, I guess, if that made any sense either. She kept smiling at me, her cheeks started to get stained and she lowered her head slightly. In the back of my mind, I noted that she still hadn't bagged that carton of eggs that was yet still sitting on that stupid scanner. What was she, abnormal or something?

"What does that mean?" she asked, smiling at me.

There were light brown freckles spotted beneath her eyes on her high, high cheekbones, sitting on a creamy toned heart-shaped face. Her deep red auburn bangs neatly covered her high, round forehead, and the rest was messily tied back in a loose ponytail behind her head, bits and pieces of razor-sharp straight hair visible behind her. Her wide doe-like eyes stared at me expectantly, shining bright.

She was pretty. The dark navy button-down apron she was wearing, the customary uniform for cashiers, didn't detract from the irresistible appeal she had splayed on her face. I wondered why she was working here. She continued to stare expectantly. It began to throw me off balance, because I hadn't planned on gracing her with an answer. I had planned on ignoring her, but she obviously was not letting the question go. Either that, or she was simply too dense to notice my inherent disinterest in pursuing a conversation with her, especially in this subject matter.

But she was genuinely interested. And seemingly harmless. I wondered why. Nevertheless, Max would kill me for speaking so casually to a stranger about personal matters like this, so I decided to take the safe road.

"I live up in the skies," I said to her playfully, hoping to god that she'd really take it as a joke.

I had spoken slowly and carefully, leaning in towards her before I looked up to the ceiling of the gigantic mega-warehouse multi-department super-supermarket warehouse, bringing my index finger up between us, pointing up at the invisible sky hovering high above the black conveyor belt, still filled with merchandise she had yet to ring up. I hoped she'd let the question go.

This town was small. And I always went on her line cause she always gave me a discount--I dropped by every two weeks or so to pick things up. She'd've noticed something suspicious like that. Oh crap, I realized.

On auto-drive, my mind started running through a number of solutions. I could just pretend I live somewhere and tell her that if she asks anymore. Damn, what are the names of the streets around here? Crap. I go to boarding school? No, then why do they let me come back every two weeks? I get home-schooled. Yeah, that works. But who are my parents?

Shit, I was no good at this. The elaborate lies are what Iggy and Max can come up with, I usually just stay compliant in those situations. Ugh.

She leaned into me, over the scanner sitting on the counter in between us. Her face was dreadfully close to my own, but I didn't flinch. That was training from Jeb.. no matter what, never let your opponent see any weaknesses or any hint of surprise.

Was she suspecting something, or what? I was pretty sure the rain couldn't seep through my windbreakers to outline my wings. Did she work for the whitecoats, or the school? A thousand suspicions began to shuffle through my brain as she leaned closer and closer, her pretty hazel-green eyes and long dark eyelashes blinking up at me, getting closer and closer to my nose.

She looked up at me, and being considerably shorter, the angle made her eyes look huge and innocent. There were a few flecks of brown spotted in the cool, lush green of her irises. The green you'd see on an aged grasshopper or some prairie grass. It was pretty, she was definitely pretty pretty. I mentally groaned as I realized how dumb that thought had just been as it reverberated in my head.

"Oh, really...?" she said shallowly up to me. It was a divine, breathy whisper, and for some reason it made me gulp, my adam's apple bobbing up and down on my neck for a moment as I looked down on her.

The air having released from her fruity breath caressed the insides of my nostrils. Crap, she was still interrogating me on where I live. Couldn't she let it go? Since when were white coats this young? Maybe they were just paying her. She could just be a fucking eraser, but I didn't know, since when had they made the female versions?

It'd be easy to take her down, she was just one. Moving my eyes this way and that I looked around me. How many other people here could be erasers? Could I take them on? If anything though, I wouldn't be able to go back to the house in the mountains for a few weeks, even if I could beat them all. Just to stay on the safe side, I would have to leave a fake trail. On no circumstance would I lead them back to our flock and those small kids.

Man, that would worry Max though.. disappearing for such a long while. Just another fault to add to the list.. I've already got a good track record for reasons I suck, whats one more? What was really began to hurt me though, was the thought that at some point Max would start seeing me as Jeb.. afterall, Jeb had just left and never come back.

No, I'd figure something out. No way would Max ever start to see Jeb in me.. I wouldn't be gone for_ that_ long if I needed to flee.

I didn't answer her, didn't move an inch from her, her face still in close proximity, looking up at me from that petite height that she was at, her eyes large and unwavering. Big and honest.

"So whats your name?" she asked quietly, in that same close distance, it was quiet yet coarse, something suggestive hidden in between the breathy words. I looked down at her, my eyes half lidded as I assessed her pretty face and her shiny, straight, strawberry hair. Her arms were bent straight, leaning on the conveyor belt, her palms supporting her weight as she leaned forward, towards me.

She had let that last question go.. but I guess telling her my name couldn't hurt all too much. After all, what would she be able to get from that? Its not as if The School had known me by the name Fang. They called me a series of numbers. There were a bunch of numbers, and I had once absentmindedly wondered if all those numbers before me, in the thousands digits, were all just failed versions of I was just a walking abortion.

"Its Fang," I said gruffly, my voice low, still looking down at her. I was looking deep into those eyes, trying to figure out how fake they were. They definitely couldn't make an eraser _this_ realistic, could they? Technology these days..

She looked surprised. But I wasn't surprised at her reaction. From my experience, I've learned that its not exactly orthodox to give names like that to children. Oh well. We're beyond our time. But her unexpected expression quickly turned into a cheeky grin, her large eyes crinkling up cutely as they looked up at me.

"Thats cool.." she said succintly, blowing a breath of soft, inviting, fruity air into my face, causing me to blink. She leaned back, yet kept her palms on the conveyor belt casually sitting there. "..its hot." she said with a mischievous grin on her mouth and an endearing smile in her eyes. I nearly grinned myself, cause her grin was pretty contagious. She still hadn't rung up that item that had been sitting there for a good while now, but for some reason, I didn't care anymore.

I had noticed the two first buttons of her apron had snapped open. I couldn't help but notice a shadow sinking down into her cute, petite body, leaning into a sliver of a dark line in between two forms on either sides that caught the light of the ceiling. I looked back up to her face to see that she had been watching me look at her chest. I wasn't sure why I felt so embarrassed. The look on her face made me feel like I had done something.. mischievous, but like she was amused by it. I looked away from her, glancing to the side. I heard her breath in deeply, about to say something, but I ignored it. I heard a beep resound somewhere to my right, in front of me. She was finally continuing to finish scanning those things. About time... I.. supposed.. Though I didn't really mind, towards the end.

I felt eyes at me. Quickly jotting my pupils back to look at her above a magazine I was pretending to be perusing through, I saw her absentmindedly placing things onto the scanner, but her full attention focused on staring at me. What a weird human girl.

"So, uh.. what school do ya go to? Is your real name really Fang?" There were only two or three things left on the conveyor belt, but she had stopped regardless. Uhh, why?

I considered completely ignoring her questions, or maybe just politely telling her to please finish my checkout. Maybe I'd pretend just not to hear her until she got the message. But that idea sort of went down the drain as my pupils were dragged up from the text of magazine to her expectant face.

She was standing there, with one hand placed over the other, clenching it, ontop of the black conveyor belt. Standing up straight and connecting her hands on top of the counter at waist-level brought her shoulders together and it made her look small, weak, and vulnerable. It also, I noticed, consequently brought her bosom out. Uh, and I meant, _out_.

My eyes slid down again, and I'd no clue why, but I really wanted to see.

No, I did know why. I was curious about Max too, but I'd never been so.. so.. tempted.

I'd been drawn to Max's chest, but not the way I couldn't _help_ but stare at this girls'. What was her name, anyway? I'd never seen Max's chest the way I was getting a glimpse of this girls'. I'd seen _all _of Max, I'd always been curious about the large lumps on woman even as a child, which is why I wanted to see Max's. But this girl.. she was showing me half and hiding the rest.

I couldn't stand it, I wanted to see what was hidden beneath that. The open gate of her unbuttoned apron cast a sweet, sweet shadow over it all, showing hints of everything.. but just hints. She leaned forward again, her arms still against her breasts, clasping her knuckles on the conveyor belt, the cleavage more pushed out, more defined. She watched me stare at her, it was like she was enticing me. I didn't respond to her.

"Oh, silly me, I'm Brigid," she said after a moment, after I hadn't said anything.

She brought one of her hands up from sitting on the conveyor belt to her face. Light giggles escaped her mouth. She laughed over how careless she had been, looking quite embarrassed for not having told me sooner. Nearly as if she had considered herself to be rude. It must be a tiresome thing to always watch out for being ill-mannered, I thought to myself.

I watched the breast sitting on the side of her bent elbow move up on her chest with the impact as she brought her hand up, creating a circularly propelled mound on her chest, a bit higher next to her other one. I looked up to see her hand half covering her mouth, trying to hide a blush. So her name was Briget. I looked at her for a moment longer, and had honestly no clue what was sitting in my eyes.

I felt claustrophobic, disoriented, the wafting headache flowing in and out, confused, a little bit agitated at this cashier, and altogether combined, I didn't know what I was feeling or what was going through my head. I nodded in acknowledgment. For some reason this caused her to blush harder and shy away beneath her hand.

I kept staring at her, the stains on her cheeks rising up, but they suddenly paled as her eyes grew wide and she broke contact with me to notice something behind me. I looked behind me as well, only to see a thin middle-aged man with a small gut sticking over his brown belt. They matched his brown shoes.

He was wearing a light blue checkered button down shirt and a tie with the name tag "Dwyer" on his breastpocket that was holding several pens and a miniature clipboard. He walked towards us with his eyebrows furrowed on an epically stoic face. The lines on his forehead looked like they were etched onto his face and were there permanently. It must be tiresome to put on such a dumb, angry, authoritative face 24/7, I thought.

"Brigid, button up your uniform." he said authoritatively, stopping at the end of the aisle for a moment to speak to her. She looked indignant.

"Dad!" she called up to him, hurriedly bringing her hands up to snap the two buttons closed. I looked down, someone living somewhere in the back of my mind was sad about that. But a part of me was amazed. What treasures just two buttons could reveal hidden beneath that.. I thought. The man, presumably her father, nodded stiffly and then walked away, a large clipboard in his hand with multi-colored sheets of paper jammed into it at his side.

So thats why she worked here. Rolling her eyes irritatingly at me, she sighed loudly and exaggeratedly. It was unlike how Max rolled her eyes though. Her eyes seemed to go around quickly, almost.. trivially.

"Ugh, you know, dads and all," she said to me, smiling sweetly, but with slight annoyance written in her eyes. "You gotta love'em, but they're too much sometimes, you gotta grow, right?" She continued.

Somehow the end of that sentence turned into something different entirely, quickly, drastically. The undertones came flying at me from all directions, but I had no clue what she meant or what she wanted from me. I nodded in minuscule proportions. Feeling rather awkward, sort of lost right now, I gave the last two items left on the conveyor belt a significant glance. She looked down to look at what I was looking at and a genuinely embarrassed look graced her face.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry.. we just got off track didn't we?" she exclaimed as she hurriedly scanned the last two remaining items and bagged them, placing them at the end of the aisle with the rest of my items.

I shrugged the shopping cart off to the side and gathered all the bags in my two hands. I could feel her eyes watching me.

"Hey, are you sure you can carry all that?" I glanced up at her condescendingly. With an easy flex, I lifted the large entire lot of plastic bags off of the counter. I watched her gawk. A primal instinct somewhere inside of me caused pride to swell up within me.

"Wow, you're strong," she said, looking up at me. She blinked cutely, her face blank and earnest. A strange feeling came over me. My felt felt hot, and I didn't want to look her in the face exactly. I'm sure that if I were to open my mouth and say something right now, my voice would crack, so I opted to stay silent. Yes, I know, big surprise. I awkwardly made a gesture with my head, bending my neck to the side, my hands being full, meant to portray both a farewell and a thanks, I guess..

I walked through to the entrance/exit of the supermarket quickly and swiftly, vaguely wondering what had just happened here.

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Eh thanks for all the support =)

The chapter got too long, so I split it into two. You guys are not going to like the next one. Meh. =.=

I'm going overseas this summer, and although I'm bringing my laptop and my netbook with me (so I'll be able to write), I dunno if I'll be able to get internet access frequently. Yeah.. so you guys should review so that I can post up as many chapters as possible before I leave.

Please review. Sorry this chapter was sort of boring, but its actually just the first half of two parts.

and psst. you guys may have gotten the wrong idea from fang's thought in the beginning of the chapter, but he will still be going to the library eventually.


	17. Meeting Brigid Pt 2

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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**Chapter Seventeen**: Meeting Brigid Pt 2

Stepping out into the cool evening air of mid-spring, I looked around at the streets in front of me.

Thats what I liked about going out—the possibilities always seemed endless. I mean, we could _fly_, we could go _anywhere we wanted_, yet we had to stay up on those cliffs, in that house. Why? I mean, I hate to say it, but I know a part of Max.. a part of her thinks he'll come back..

Shaking my head sadly at the thought, I began to walk down the sidewalk. The bags, although numerous, weren't really weighing me down, but I felt like wandering around. I'd already told Max I'd be late, so there wasn't any problem, even _if_ I was late for the wrong reasons.

I just needed.. to think, be alone for a bit. I loved those kids, I loved Max, but.. I needed to sort thing out in my head right now.

I might as well check out the library.. couldn't be too safe—it may be open, right? But before I went to that next block over, I crossed the street to go behind the bookshop next to the big supermarket-warehouse multiplex. Next to the trashcans and junk, I looked around for a quiet second before I shrugged off my windbreaker and jumped into the sky with the grocery bags and my jacket in my hands.

I made sure to do it fast, in a blink, so no one could see someone rising up out from a vertical stance with large black feathery things protruding from his back. In a second or two I was in the sky, above the clouds. Yeah, it was a risky thing to do, but I was pretty good at flight maneuvering. Max wouldn't give something like that a chance—and for good reason too—she was pretty sloppy. I'm aware of how egotistical that sounds but, really, its a fact, in comparison to myself at least. And even for me, I'm like a bumbling refrigerator next to a swallow. I really am.

It was pretty weird though, cause Max didn't always used to suck so much. When we were first learning, she was better than me by miles.

I hovered above the clouds for a second, the rain had let up while I had been inside shopping, but rocking through the clouds had still drenched my hair. I looked around for a second, a flock of birds were in the distance, but that was it. Quickly swooping back down, I left the grocery bags on a cliff about 300 or so meters from where our house was.

It was a quick 5 minute flight, and I flew back into town, landing on a quiet rooftop and putting on my windbreaker, swiftly and discreetly jumping down the fire escape steps a few at a time empty handed. It'd be too risky to land on a street corner with my wings out, at 6:45. People were still mulling about, even though tonight was particularly dark tonight, unusual for the spring season, but it had rained considerably all day today so it was expected.

Stepping back onto a street corner across the street from the building of the rooftop on which I had landed, I looked around at the people walking around, casually shrugging my hands into my pockets. Blending in, it was so easy, it was _so_ easy. Like I was meant to be here. Like I wasn't cultivated in a pod. Those scientists sure did their job well.

I wasn't sure what I was doing right now. I'd already seen the library closed, the doors locked and lights turned off, when I was flying over to leave the grocery bags at a pit stop. Now what was I doing? I kept walking down, everyone around me.

Everyone was with someone, enjoying the cool, breezy, chilly spring weather after the rain let out in sundresses. I was approaching the promenade, an area of stores in a semi-circular form where people went to.. hang out. Their husbands or boyfriend's jackets were over their bare shoulders.

I vaguely wondered why they did that.. perhaps it was only to steal those jackets. It was societal obligation. I'd noticed a lot in my time wandering around time. It was all so curious, it was all so real.

I couldn't ever help but feel and wonder like we were missing out a lot by isolating ourselves. There was so much to learn. I knew Max would like it, I knew she would, she just needed to get out of that paranoia and she'd love it here. Somewhere far off in my mind I imagined her in a sundress, walking down the same streets with me on a sunny afternoon.

The couple I had been watching.. the girl suddenly stopped and stretched her neck up out at him, her chin pointing up. He smiled at her and lowered his head a few centimeters as she jumped up and pecked his lips with her own.

Had I seen that before? Sure, yeah, on tv. But I'd never understood why they did it. None of us did.

I felt sort of embarrassed to be quite honest. All those times we've watched those strange things on tv, wondered why they did that, and then changed the channel in sheer disinterest.. and now.. now I was actually _interested_. I didn't even know why, Gazzy Iggy and Max would probably think I'm crazy for actually.. being interested.

If I had been in the house alone when a tv show had been on with kissing, I wouldn't get bored and change the channel.. I'd keep watching. I dunno why, but it was just curious.. and I wanted to know more, although I'm sure that if I ever tried that with Max she'd either slap me or push me away or ignore me for a few days in anger, pissed off. Yeah, I'd never have the guts to try something like that.

The weather seemed right to stay up on the roof tonight. We should talk tonight, just sit there in eachother's presence. It felt good. She was my best friend, we talked about everything. Well.. we wouldn't always actually talk.. but we'd always know what was on eachother's mind. It was sort of a law. It was obligation, I help her, she tells me things. Thats sort of.. _how_ I help her, so I guess its not really a trade-up.. We wouldn't be able to survive without one another, that was also another law.

The flock would definitely fall apart if Max and I didn't get along. Though I'm sure that if I had never existed, she'd need to have a relationship like that with Iggy. And if neither of us were here, then Nudge. But you couldn't talk like that to a kid. If neither Iggy nor I were here, and she had to talk to Nudge, then.. then Nudge wouldn't be the Nudge that we know. She wouldn't be a kid, responsibilities and knowledge thrust onto her like that.

Anyway you looked at the situation, Max would always be the leader. She was born to be a leader.

Jeb, although I hate him, did something crucial for us by giving Max and I an actual childhood. Sure, it was two years, but it was two years in which we didn't have a care in the world. Everything had been fun and games, and it was great.

And then it was stripped from us. Suddenly, harshly, mercilessly.

Although I can't say that I blame him. If he needed to let us go, then how would he be able to go with farewells? Those things, they need to come off like a band-aid. Its the harsh truth. I wouldn't've been able to let him go, mentally, emotionally, if he had done something like that. It sounds like the proper way to take a leave, but not for us.

We were different. We needed to fight to survive. It was appropriate how he had left. Like taking off a band-aid, theres always a sting afterward.. but after the sting, its gone. No dumb memories of the pain, only the feeling of it being there.. I can't say I wouldn't do the same. I can't say I hate him completely for what he did. Leaving Max, leaving us, that was awful. But if I had to leave, I wouldn't do it any other way than how he did.

Maybe I learned from him, maybe its his influence that makes me think this way. Who knows.

I had kept walking straight down the avenue, down 6 blocks from the building on which I had landed. I was walking past the front of the large mega-warehouse-supermarket-liquidator place again. I was walking aimlessly, pointlessly in front of it, but it was good. It felt good. Its not something anyone in the flock normally did, it was mine. My time to think, although it wasn't nearly as alone and isolated, just yourself, like flying is.

When you fly, you're alone and yourself, it feels so good and empty with nothing but the loud air rushing past you, beating against your eardrums—it feels like you're going faster than the speed of sound.. but walking on the streets.. it wasn't nearly as fast.

No adrenaline rush, no quick excited heart-beating, blood-rushing mellow mood on your mind. There were lights and sounds and people all around you, but it was amazing how alone you could feel in the middle of all that. The energy around you makes the floor vibrate beneath the soles of your shoes, but it was you and you and only you.

It felt more alone to walk on busy streets down on Colorado ground than to fly in the big blue empty sky all by yourself, so completely alone. It wasn't nearly as lonely to fly, but perhaps it was because of the distraction, the adrenaline rush. Flying was therapeutic, but walking, like this, it'd make you really think—everything over, think yourself over. Human nature was so.. it was so interesting. All these feelings you'd never expect, yet it was all there.

Yeah, I know it made no sense for us to live down here though. How the heck would we be able to hide? And that was the fact of the matter. We couldn't stay. We needed to hide.

Walking past the supermarket again, I heard an irritated, high-pitched.. _very_ agitated voice resound behind me, and I'd heard it before. I'd heard it before, in epic proportions, I thought, as I recalled how she leaned into me and whispered into my face shallowly with a deep, sultry tone coming up and out of her throat.

With a slight shudder at the thought, I turned around to look at her. Her face was annoyed, her arms crossed, and her shoulders huddled together self-consciously in her furry bomber jacket. There was a large, gangly man, towering behind her, speaking in a slurred voice, quietly and deeply. She seemed annoyed, walking forward in a quick pace, looking like she was ignoring him, but ever-so-aware of his presence looming behind and following her.

No, I was sure that she didn't like his company by now. I walked forward, in between the space that she attempted to put in between them. I was facing him, my back turned to her. She probably didn't even know that I'd cut in between them until she heard the lack of grostesque words steadily streaming out from his mouth.

"Sup Man," I asked casually, bringing my chin up to meet his gaze. He was taller than me, bulkier, but I could take him on. I crossed my arms across my chest, against my opened jacket.

"Heh, yeah, whatever, could'ya move now?" he said gruffly. He obviously had no clue that I was doing this on purpose. Probably thought I was just some sort of psycho.

It's okay though. I sort of was.

"It's okay," I reassured him politely, nodding my head self-assuredly. He stared at me blankly, finally putting all of his attention on me. I heard a light gasp behind me, the girl must've turned around. I heard her shoes scrape against the pavement.

"Whaddya mean _it's okay_, I'm telling you to _move_!" he said angrily. His face convulsed grotesquely.

"You know, that look sure doesn't suit you," I informed him, disappointedly shaking my hand. I put my hand on my chin and tilted my head, pretending to critique his face. For some strange, unbeknownst reason, this only seemed to agitate him further. For some strange, unbeknownst reason, the irritated look on his face made me smile. You couldn't know how much fun this is.

"ARE YOU CALLIN ME UGLY?" he screamed at me. Man, that man needed _a breathmint_. After wincing for a second in reaction to that halitosis, I slowly opened my eyes in distaste. Putting a blank look on my face, I grabbed his chin strongly with one hand, tilting it this way and that to observe it.

"Oh, honey, you've got _so much _potential though," I said to him rather.. metrosexually. I clucked my tongue, shaking my head disappointedly at him yet again.

I watched him swing an arm back in slow motion. Tsk, what a shame. Any idiot knows that you shouldn't ever let your opponent see a move coming.

"What a dumbass," I muttered absentmindedly, staring at him keeled over on the floor. It'd taken me a second to knee his gut. That arm that he had swung back was still in the same position. A slow dumbass, too, I noted.

I distastefully shook his thick, fat, galloping waist with the toebox of my shoe. Was he _really_ out? Man was that all that took? Too easy. That girl probably could've taken him on herself. I kept on observing him, before I heard footsteps coming towards from behind. I twisted my neck to see the girl, looking rather distraught, her hands clasped together on her chin.

I looked at her curiously, slowly stepping off of the keeled over drunkard. She was pretty when she was anguished too, I noted. I turned around to face her properly. I suddenly regretted my dumb behavior at the store. I had been having such a headache before, she really hadn't deserved that attitude. I mean, really, who did?

"Hey," I said quietly, my face softening at her distressed look.

"Oh my gosh, Fang, I'm so sorry, are you alright?" she looked like she was just about ready to cry. Amazing how facial expressions could change. Less than five minutes ago she had the most annoyed look splayed over her face. Shouldn't she have been more scared then than she was now? No, but she was feeling bad now. I suppose feeling guilty was more stressing for her than feeling scared. Hence the waterworks.. or near-waterworks, I suppose.

I didn't respond. I looked okay. Duh.

I watched her pretty green pupils scan my face, moving back and forth for any bruises or cuts.

"You.. you have.." she was staring at a spot on my face around my chin. She lightly brought her hand up and placed a finger on a spot on my jaw. It was soft, and slightly cold, and it felt like what a cloud is meant to feel like—not the wet things, but the poetic descriptions—and she slowly brought her palm up to rest against my neck as her fingers hovered over the side of my jaw, touching it lightly like how butterflies were drawn to little Gazzy's nose. I'm sure she could feel my adam's apple bobbing up and down as I took a deep gulp, feeling her fingers on my face.

"a little.. cut right there.." she said, giving it an intense speculation.

Her words surprised me, I immediately brought my hand up to touch my jaw, concentrating hard and looking up to stretch my neck and get a better angle. I felt around on my jaw, and she was right. It was really tiny though, miniscule. When the guy keeled over on me before he fell down, he must've just scraped the side of my face with his watch. It was probably less than 6 or 7 millimeters. The scab would fall off in an hour or two, I estimated.

Feeling over the area, suddenly I realized that she hadn't taken her hand off of my jaw either. I brought my head down to look at her. Her hand still on the side of my face, she was no longer observing the cut, but looking deep into my eyes. Why couldn't Max ever do something like that? Then I wouldn't feel so stupid when I did. My fingers, previously having been running over the cut, were now absentmindedly stroking her fingers on my cheek.

She blushed, or I thought she did—I couldn't really tell underneath the dark sky, but I guessed so, since she hid her face, looking away. Cute, I thought, surprising myself. What was her name again?

"Wheres your father?" I asked her. She shouldn't be out like this by herself, and didn't she work at the store her dad was the manager of? He should be taking her home. She wasn't like Max afterall. Its not like she could defend herself, I noted. She looked quite small and tiny, her furry effeminate bomber jacket engulfing her.

"He has a night shift," she explained. I nodded. Suddenly she looked down. Looking at the top of her head, her fingers fiddling with each other down below, I bent my neck a little bit to peek up at her. She was pretty cute.

"Um.. so.. could you.. uhm.." she trailed off, looking off to the side.

"Walk you?" I finished for her. I was just guessing though, I seriously didn't know what she was going to ask for, but I was going to offer anyway. She was too pretty to be out by herself this late at night. She smiled, looking up at me.

"Yeah.. that would be great." I nodded apathetically and started forward in the direction she had been walking in before. The night was nice, dark and silent. A bit chilly, but it was fine.

"So.. you never told me, what school do you go to?" she asked conversationally. It was sort of unnerving. I was fine just walking silently. I cleared my throat, cause there was no way of getting out of talking to her in this situation.. I wracked my brain. What was I supposed to _say_ to this?!

"Where do _you_ go?" I asked her quickly, hoping she wouldn't notice my lack of answer. It worked. Her eyes lit up. Girls liked to talk about themselves down here, I had learned from experience.

"Oh, I go to John Browning State High School," she said excitedly. Okay. Why do I care? I thought absentmindedly. Whatever, the whole premise is to cater to their needs anyway.

"Do ya like it there?" I asked softly, feeling a nice wind play across my face. I wondered where we were walking to anyway. We were far off from the marketing district by now.

"Yeah, its a ton of stuff.. but I recently broke up with my boyfriend.." she looked off to the side, her face probably looking sad. I wondered what idiot what dump a girl like her. She seemed sweet. I didn't know what to say.

"Oh. Sorry." She nodded her head in acknowledgment.

"Thanks."

"Where are we going?" I asked her.

"My brother's place, he runs a hotel." I nodded, thinking that over in my head before I figured out that it didn't really make sense to me. She had a dad, didn't she? She noticed the lack of comment and continued herself.

"I live with my dad, but I don't like staying in a big house alone when he has night shifts sometimes, so I have a room at my big brother's place and just go there." I nodded. We walked a bit more in empty silence, exchanging few, dumb words, her giggles filling the air with my sad pathetic attempts to avoid answering any of her questions succinctly.

"We're here," she said, as we walked up a stoned pathway to a large, nice-looking, cozy front porch. From the open lights in the lobby, I could see the insides decorated lavishly through the windows. I checked the area out and then nodded.

"Cool. Well, See ya," I said, turning around and beginning to walk back into town. I felt like picking up something to eat before heading back to the flock. I could get them all some pizza for dinner too, although that'd be a pain to fly up, I could still do it.

"Um, wait," she called out behind me. I turned around questioningly, to see her hand out to wave me forward. Maybe she'd forgotten something. It couldn't be that she was too afraid to walk two feet to the front door. How irritating. Obligations, obligations, you're stuck on a string. I took a few steps forward, back to her.

"Yeah?" I asked, slightly peeved. Man, she came off as pretty needy. Especially to someone she doesn't even know. In case she wasn't aware, she wasn't anyone very special. I'd beat any gross guy up if they were terrorizing someone defenseless with ill intentions. You could say it was something I got from Max.

Max hated coming into town, but if we ever took long flights away from the house, and she scanned something wrong going on underneath, beneath her, she'd swoop down and scare the fuck out of whomever was causing trouble. Needless to say, I never approved. Max could have such a double-standard sometimes—try to stay hidden, paranoia everywhere—but when she thought something was unjust, she'd do whatever she could to fix it, regardless of if it defied the rules she imposed unto us.

"You know, you can come in if you want. No ones gonna be there or anything." she offered, tilting her head to one side and looking at me blankly. I stared back.

"I'll get you a band-aid for your cut and clean it up, I feel pretty bad," she went on to say, her face honest, but her eyes weren't so earnest. They had something else sitting in them. I walked a few steps forward towards her, drawn in. I was curious to what her real intentions were.

"Theres food here too, the chefs are pretty great," she continued, her face still holding that emotionless, blank expression.

"That sounds good," I replied apathetically, coupled with a nonchallant shrug. Somewhere in the pit of my gut, I knew that I shouldn't accept. I knew that Max would've killed me for saying yeah. I knew, but I said yes anyway.

Her eyes smiled widely up at me and she put her hand lightly on my elbow and steered me around the front porch of the hotel towards the back.

"Here, we can go in this way. The room that I have is towards the back," she led me in. We walked in, past the kitchens, where the smell of good food wafted in towards my nostrils, and she stopped at a door marked 502. She took a key out of one of the front pockets of her jacket and picked the right one, sliding it in, she turned the knob as it clicked. She opened the door and I followed her in.

The room was moderate sized. It was bigger than mine, but my room was pretty small as it is. I'm just thankful that I have my own in general, although Iggy wouldn't benefit much from something like that. Nudge and Angel had fun rooming together, and I don't think Gazzy minded at all rooming with his idol. Max.. had the master bedroom at the end of the hallway, but I don't think I'd've wanted it either way—the walls were painted a light pink in the first place, and even I knew that it wasn't quite Max's thing, but she dealt with it. I looked around this girl's room, it was simple and neat, rather elegant.

"This really isn't my room though. Its just where I stay when my dad's overseas or like no ones at home or whatever. Jim is always upstairs if I need him, or his wife, Sarah, so its cool like that." she explained. I nodded. I sat down on the side of her bed looking around at a few photos on the wall and stuff. She sat at the other end, watching me look around.

"You've got a big family?" I asked her, as I noticed a couple of pictures with large groups of people looking related to one another. She hummed an affirmative.

"Mhm. I've got six other siblings," she picked up a picture from her night table to show me, "Thats Paul, Jim, Sally, Micheal, and David. I don't think Hannah was in this one. She didn't want to photographed cause she was pregnant at the time. Oh, but thats Lorenzo, her husband. He's Italian, and he's got such a funny accent. It's pretty cute," she went on, pointing at some pictures and others. I nodded, amused. So this was a normal life?

"They're all older than you." I stated a fact. She looked up at me.

"Yup, except for Micheal. He's still finishing middle school." It isn't like I knew what age group that would be though. "What about you?" she asked. "Have you got a big family too?"

"No, its pretty small" I lied. No false trails, my ass. Better to keep her guessing. She nodded.

"But I love them, a lot," I replied softly. Her face softened, looking at me. She moved a little closer.

"Have you got any siblings?" she asked curiously. She brought one of her legs up, so now one was bent over her mattress, while the other swung off the side. She was facing me fully. I noticed a little tiny photo-frame, probably hand-made, hanging on a wall. It said 'Brigid' in little lettered beads of multiple colors. Oh. So thats what her name had been.

"I've got a sister.." I said, thinking about Max, and then continued "I've got two little sisters, and tiny little brother," I said, thinking about Gazzy. Was Iggy my younger brother? He was my right hand man. It'd be pretty demeaning of me to baby him like that.. he would never appreciate that.

"Oh, so you've got three younger siblings. Thats not so small, Fang. You're the oldest?" Damnit. I let the cat out the bag. Thats what I get for trailing off and thinking too hard. You accidentally answer honestly.

"Maybe," I replied absentmindedly, thinking about Max.

I was thinking more in terms of.. responsibility. I wasn't responsible for Iggy, but I depended on him. But I felt responsible for Max, cause she really depended on me. Its strange how those things work though, doesn't it? In my mind, it felt like Max was a younger sibling, rather than an older one, or even a best friend anymore.

I wanted to hold her the way I could hold and cradle Angel or Nudge. But.. I couldn't. I could never hold her that way, because she wasn't.

I felt older than her, I wanted to protect her from the world. I looked off into the distance, and suddenly felt somewhere far away. I got pulled back in when I felt Brigid's feather light hands, her touches wafting over my jaw as she carefully taped a band-aid on.

She had taken one out of her bedside drawer, I turned as she worked on my face and saw the top drawer open. There were miscellaneous things in there. Construction paper, a few (what looked like) earrings, some post-its and markers, a little strange semi-circular packet with small oval pills in them, and a box of band-aids that was half open after she had taken one out. I let her finish. She leaned back on the bed after she was done.

"Done! Thanks a lot, by the way, Fang." she said to me, smiling innocently.

"Yeah, its alright," I murmered, feeling around my jaw to touch the band-aid.

It was unnecessary. The scab would fall off soon anyway, but whatever. I didn't want it to get infected anyway. I once got a scraped knee infected, and Jeb had made me stay in bed for two whole days. It had gotten really icky and yellow and green too, but that had been a relatively large epidermal opening.

Suddenly she was leaning into me. Her soft lips met my own. She pressed them against mine and then opened her mouth and pushed them in. She.. she was kissing me. It was soft, her breath was warm, and her skin was soft. Hesitantly I opened my mouth a bit too.

That seemed to be the right thing to do, as the pressure she was putting on my mouth drastically turned more pointed. It was shy at first, but now it was.. rhythmically pressured. I could feel wetness grace my bottom lip. She grasped it softly between her two teeth. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up at me, my bottom lip still in between her teeth. She closed her eyes and and leaned in harder, pushing me back.

My back was lying down on her bed now, with my knees hanging off the side of the edge. She was kneeling over me, her hands on my chest. It was.. it was nearly, goddamned therapeutic. I closed my eyes and just went with the flow. It was pretty goddamned fun. No wonder they showed this stuff on tv.

Her hands slowly slid up my chest, causing a tightening in my boxers, and reached my neck. I started getting a little bit more aggressive. I actually opened my mouth and began taking the initiative. I kissed the side of her mouth sweetly, softly. She responded enthusiastically. What I didn't expect was her tongue through my mouth.

I have to say, it was a strange, weird feeling. She ran her tongue across my front row of teeth and sucked on my upper lip as her hands reached the back of my neck, running up the frisky edges of short strands of hair sitting there, before going up to rub against my scalp. I almost forgot to breathe. She let go of me, her hands supporting herself on my chest now.

We looked at eachother in silence, I was breathing on her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. Leaning ontop of me, and looking down, she bent backwards to face me, successfully thrusting her chest towards me too. I pointedly avoided looking at it, the problem in my pants intensifying just at the knowledge of the close proximity they were at.

She leaned back down, tilting her neck to kiss me again. I responded suavely, casually. It was slow and neat and she didn't thrust her tongue back into my mouth this time, so I guessed that she understood that I wasn't too fond of it. Slowly I slid my hands up to gently rest on her waist, just a ghost of my hand, to keep my own balance if for anyone's benefit.

My head was beginning to feel dizzy in itself. Slowly the kiss turned from neat and well-paced to a mixture of different speeds, taking and giving, her lips were needy and asking, and I didn't know what to give, or do.

Slowly, ever so slowly, her hands slid up in between us and she unbuttoned the five buttons that kept her shirt together at the front. My eyes were closed, but I could sense what she was doing in between us. Immediately I let go of her and looked down. At the time, she was sitting on my chest, her superlatively petite form fitting weightless on me, her crotch centered in the area just above my navel. The tightness of my pants began to grow overwhelming, but I was too preoccupied at the moment to care to put time aside and make it go away.

I looked up at her, and I knew there wasn't any going back. I felt my penis throb, pumping blood, rushing down to my crotch. I don't think I'd ever been as hard as I was right then, looking up at her sitting straight up on my chest, her shirt casually open, revealing a lacy black covering over her breasts. I stared, and stared, and stared, and felt like I hadn't breathed in a while.

My hands lay straight at my sides as she looked down at me with an angelic face. I watched her slowly maneuver herself off of me as she went and lay back on the pillow resting against her headboard. My pupils were hypersensitive of every twitch she made, the rise and fall of her chest, the maneuvering of her curvaceous waist as she'd bend over the tiniest bit.. I was in goddamned deep, it was captivating.

Lifting my neck up, I stood up, following her movements. She rested against her headboard, the position making her chest look ever-so-appealing as the cleavage line grew deeper.

I leaned back into her, and kissed her again, but kept my hand at my sides. I was nearly afraid to put them around her waist now.. It was bare and thin now, and I really needed to get rid of that problem, but I wanted to keep on kissing, cause it was fun and I was doing it to a pretty girl lying underneath me sitting here with her clothes falling off of her.

Looking down for a second, dragging my lips away from hers I noticed that in getting up and moving to lean against the headboard she had also gotten her jeans off, and I sat there admiring her legs. They were short, suiting her small form, but shapely. They were a pale alabaster, devastatingly angelic, so much paler than anyone in the flock, and captivating; we all had light permanent tans from flying close to the sun.

She dragged me back towards her face and I kissed her absentmindedly as her hands traced the rims of my own jeans. I brought down my hands to put them over her own sitting on my pants. What the fuck was she doing?

Feeling my hands over her own, she slipped her smaller digits out of my grasp while I was preoccupied with smothering her lips with kisses, and instead slipped them to wrinkle the hem of the shirt beneath my open windbreaker. Immediately, like a flash of thunder, I jerked away, my hands automatically clamping down on her wrists in a deathlike grip. Brigid looked up at me, confused, wincing slightly at the contact.

I realized that it would probably bruise. My tense jaw unstiffened.

Realizing what I was doing to her, I loosened my grip on her wrists, my gaze softening already. My hands still gently holding her wrists still, I bent down gently again to kiss her softly again, to continue what we had been doing as if she had not tried to just pull my shirt up. She slipped her hands out of my fingers, and this time I kept an eye on what was was doing.

What she did, however, was not anything that I expected.

I felt her hands grope around the center of my crotch, rubbing against the tightness that had grown there emphathetically. Not having seen it coming, I suddenly groaned into her mouth, deeply and gruffly. Regrettably, but willingly, I pulled away from her mouth to lean back a little and watch her hands rub up and down on my crotch, sitting half-cross-legged in front of me. At the angle, looking down, I saw her own crotch. It was something I'd never seen before in my 13 years, it was.. curious, I decided. It was pink and shiny, and there were so many folds in it that it looked insanely complex.

My breathing grew harsh as I watched her rub the tent in my pants, looking up from her crotch to watch her fingers on me, and I peeked a glance at her, my mouth wide open and heaving shallow breaths raggedly, to see her mischievous pixie-like face grin at me, her blouse hanging off her shoulders, unbuttoned, haphazardly. We made eye contact for a moment as she continued to rub my pelvis, and I watched her as she slid a hand off to slip the black lacy thing covering her breasts down her chest to expose herself fully, the taught nipples standing on her bosom extended miles more than when I'd seen Max's.

My breathing grew harsher and I felt myself grow _so _much harder in her hands beneath my boxers.

I was too overcome to even bother an attempt to say anything. At some point I got my gatherings back together and put my hand around the back of her neck to pull her face against mine and press her lips to mine again as she kept on rubbing up and down. Quickly, soon after I did this, her hand reached down to unbutton my pants. What the fuck? I thought, but was soon distracted as I felt her bare hand make contact with the throbbing flesh of my penis. She yanked it down, to which my mouth ellicited a groan with no inhibitions.

She forcefully shoved my boxers and my jeans down to my knees, both of us still half sitting on the bed. She rubbed up and down purposefully two or three more times before she turned around to place her buttocks on top of my knees. Catching my breath in the small amount of time allowed in which her hands weren't on my penis, I looked up at her questionably as she raised herself up on me, my head now level with her midriff. She rubbed her torso against my head sensuously, to which I nuzzled her on instinct.

At some point, her breasts came to surround my head, the soft flesh on either sides of my face. It was simply a moment of euphoria, is all I can describe it as. I felt one of her hands leave the back of my neck, where she was propelling herself up and reach down to touch my penis again, pulling it up, to which I released a groan into the pinnacle of her cleavage.

Pulling it up, she then sat on my lap, a sudden feeling of intense pleasure coming over me and she sunk down onto my lap, my penis going up and into her vagina. The blood started rushing through me intensely, it was so tight, it was so wet, it was so hot, it was so fucking good. My shaking hands reached up to grab her voluptuous hips and instinctively drive her on me. I kissed the closest area I could reach--her chin--and the feeling was overcoming my entire body, and I nearly bit her in frustration.

It was when she lifted herself up and then fell back down again that I truly didnt think I could take it anymore. I felt like I was about to explode any second, and the white stuff, it would all shoot up into her. Closing my eyes, I heard my mouth involuntarily release a groan. High above me and moving up and down on me, Brigid was squealing as well, her hand propelling her petite form from my shoulders. I couldn't take it anymore, and I had reached the end, the white fluid coming out of me in large tumultuous bursts. I heard her gasp loudly as I felt the fluid leak up and out of me, surging out through deep breaths.

After a few minutes, catching our breaths, she let go of my shoulders and my neck and got off of me. It was quiet, silent, we didn't say a word. I was still running through the experience in my head, looking down to get my bearings together. I felt her eyes watch me as she got up off of my lap and leaned back on her headboard, against her pillow. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw half of her face illuminated by the light of her bedside lamp with stark tenebrism, her beautiful green eyes looking at me.

Something strange was sitting on her eyebrows. She was.. inspecting me.. I turned my pupils back to look at down at the floor, still working on catching my breath and lowering my heartrate to something vaguely normal. She'd ask me whatever it was when she was ready to.

She leaned back, slouching, causing her breasts to stick up above the black lacy thing she had pulled down to expose them, and make them look fuller, larger and rounder. The blouse she had been wearing was still on her, completely unbuttoned and hanging limply by the sides of her pert chest. She was completely nude down south of there, casually lounging on her bed.

My toes twitched as I noticed the light orange underwear resting three or four inches away to the right of my feet, which were placed flat on her carpeted floor.

I had once considered getting Max and the girls underwear, but then wasn't too sure about it, so never bothered. I wasn't even sure why I wore them, but it felt unnatural _not_ to now.. it was simply habit.

I was sitting on the side of the bed she was lying on, my knees hanging over the edge of the mattress, the same position I had been in when she had impaled my penis unto herself, I was completely bare from the waist down. I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees and ran my hands over my face. That was incredible.

Thinking back to the fleeting glance of the female excretory organ I had gotten from Brigid previously, while she had rubbed me through my jeans, I wondered where the hole had been among all those glistening pink fold. Wherever it was, it was tight, _so_ tight, and it had felt _so_ good.

I heard a preparatory intake of breath as Brigid opened her mouth to say something. I turned my head to look at her--her hauntingly provocative visage, every pleasurable part of her entire body lain out to me like an erotic portrait.

Looking at me carefully, she returned the glance, speaking clearly with apprehension.

"Were you a virgin?"

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THIS IS **MAX+FANG** FIC. IN THE END IT WILL BE MAX+FANG. **PLEASE DO NOT STOP READING** BECAUSE THIS FRIGID IS _NECCESARY_ FOR PLOT PROGRESSION.

Don't hate me for what I did right there =(

You're going to appreciate it later.. everything I do, I do for a reason.

I didn't really want to write it, but now that its out of the way.. onto bigger, better issues. This is the foundation for everything coming up in the future. Issues that you guys've been asking me for, for aages now (literally.. or.. perhaps 3 months?)

The more you review, the faster the chapters come! The faster the chapters come, the sooner that this AWFUL frigid is over and done with !

1. the fax in this story may seem like just hormones from time to time, but that is not what it is meant to be in the greater scheme of things.

1b. yes, they do have genuine feelings for one another. its dissapointing that i need to clarify that. its a signal that i should expand on that part of the story dialogue then. you guys should tell me things like this, things that i need to improve on, in your reviews o_o thatd be awesome.

2. no. The toolbar at the top of this story does NOT say "Brigid and Fang" now does it? Tsk tsk.

faster reviews = faster updates.

there are alot of people subscribed to this story who don't review. its okay, but i just wonder why you dont.

if its because you think that it wont really matter in the end, you're _wrong_.

if you think that your review isn't significant next to all the others, you're _wrong._

every single review matters to me. i read them all, and i may not reply to them all, but i DEFINATELY **care** about what every one says.

what _one_ person says to me, may or may not change the entire pace/setting/current this story is riding on.

yeah, _a single_ review can change my mind about everything. trust me, it matters. they all do.

if you like this story, you can thank the reviewers =) i couldnt do it without them.


	18. The Road to Hell is Paved with Gold

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Eighteen**: The Road to Hell is Paved with Gold.

Virgin. Was I a virgin. What did that mean? I mulled it over in my head at rapid rates despite the blank, expressionless page written on my face like a book, as I slowly brought my head up and turned it over my right shoulder to look at her.

She stared right back, with a look of slight apprehension, a touch of doubt, coupled with a mere inkling of what seemed to be self-denial for the sake of fear. I didn't know what the word meant, and I couldn't seem to judge its connotation from how she was reacting to her own words. Her reaction was too complex for me to decipher and translate into something plausible for my own mind to annotate.

I kept staring at her, wondering if she would let the question go. Asking her what it means might give her hint as to how un-normal I really am. How I'm grotesquely lacking in knowledge of societal interactions considering how I'm not a really part of society itself. Isolated—thats what we, the flock are. By choice.

Isolated?

_Fuck. _It hit me. What the fuck had I just done? I'm in someone else's _home_. I might potentially be fucking up _everything_ we, the flock _have_. Isolation, isolation, what the FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?! I wracked my head as to how stupid I must be. What was wrong with me, how could I have just walked in here? All night long this human girl has been asking me questions about myself and my life—all of which is a secret to everyone except a top-secret government facility.

How did I let myself sit here this second? How did I get myself into the situation I was in right now? This girl was two inches, one second, away from pulling my shirt off and seeing, feeling, touching my wings.

What the _fuck_ was wrong with me.

And what had we just done? It'd felt good, it'd felt _so_ good, but what the fuck was that all about?

And now shes sitting here, looking like she's one second away from going completely insane if I didn't answer her any sooner. I kept staring at her, but I'm sure by this time my face had betrayed me in the slightest. Or at least, she seemed intelligent and decent enough to have some sort of insight. Fuck. I was screwed. And I killed myself. Why the _fuck_ did I come in here. Its over. She's going to figure out that I don't know a thing about_ her _life in a second. God, I really screwed up.

"...Fang, have you ever had sex before? Were you a virgin?" she asked again loudly, getting off the headboard and leaning forward on the bed, widening her eyes exponentially, her eyebrows up expectantly.

Sex. I'd heard that before. On tv, a lot. On the adult sitcoms, they used that word all the time. It was something they did at night, and sometimes they'd wake up regretting it. Sometimes it'd get them in a lot of trouble. It was how people had kids.

Normally, I mean. I mean, if you _weren't _cultivated in a pod and grafted with wings.

_This_ was sex? I had just fucking did_ it _?

That _it_, that elusive _it,_ they always referred to _it _as on television.

I'd just had sex.

Gr-eat.

Stupendous.

If this fucking girl has a kid with wings, what the fuck am I supposed to say to her? And if she has a fucking kid, what the fuck am I supposed to do? Do I really want to be one of those guys on tv that ditches and leaves those irritating, annoying, emotional, dumb, self-righteous woman-moms all crappy?

I mean, just _watching_ those daytime television movies makes you feel guilty inside, for absolutely no fucking reason—which is precisely why I hated watching them. Movies that make you feel sad _for_ a non-real character, or _mad_ at a non-real character, or feel _anything_ beyond for yourself is too irritatingly agitating for my liking. Next to the fact that it shouldn't be happening.

Anyway, by just looking at her face, I knew the answer she wanted to hear.

"No," I lied, distinctly.

The tension on her face seemed to melt off, but instead it was replaced by a hint of laughter mixed with confusion. Her left eye twitched as she assessed me, and she seemed to mull something over in her head before she spoke. She looked marginally more laid-back now.

"You're so hot though, you must have had so much more experience than this." she said, with one eyebrow raised, her mouth curving into a skeptical smile.

I didn't respond.

"C'mon, you must be a total hunk at your high school," she continued, nudging the back of my shoulder softly and laughing.

Her delightful smile lit up her face, yet I continued to ignore her. I wasnt even _in_ high school. A part of me.. a part of me, it felt guilty. Didn't I just lie to her? Indirectly, I suppose, but it was still the same thing, since I didn't bother to correct her. What the fuck was I getting myself into?

She leaned back on the headboard, and spread her legs wide, giving me a perfect view of her genital organ, in all its pink, slippery, wet glory. She slithered her hands down to her thighs, watching me carefully, and began to carress the insides of them slowly, lifting her buttocks off of the bed in rhythm, as if the massaging of the insides of her thighs with her own hands were elliciting all of it.

They were, I realized, as I continued to watch, mesmerized. The folds on her vagina seemed to get more and more wet. She had her eyes closed and turned to one side haphazardly, as one of her hands trailed down from the insides of her thigh to lightly brush the side of a fold. She took a breath and continued, her body still moving up and down on the bed.

I felt my penis harden again as I watched her, completely, undeniably, utterly mesmerized. I reached down to touch rub my penis gently as I watched her—it seemed like an open enough environment to do so, obviously.

When I looked back up, I saw her fingers dig into her nether-regions. Leaning closer, I looked a bit more carefully. It had probably been where my penis had gone into, all hard. She brought her fingers in and out, and absentmindedly, I wondered if it would be opportunistic for me to do it again cause I was pretty damn willing at the moment.

Taking her fingers out and bringing them up to aggressively rub against a circular feature sitting on the northern part of her vagina, she brought her other hand up to squeeze her left breast, as a shallow moan released from her mouth.

She started to go faster and faster and her whole body was convulsing on the bed on which we were both sitting, shaking the mattress up and down as her whimpers began to fill the room.

After a moment, she cooled down and relaxed. Leaning even closer, I noticed a trickle of white fluid excrete from her, from the hole that my penis had been in. Her hands lay on her breasts tiredly, and her face was flushed—it looked like what she had just done had been very physically straining, but she seemed to have obviously been enjoying it.

I.. I must not have been able to.. satisfy her. Thats all that I could comprehend from the situation. It was pretty incredible how things came rushing to me so quickly after figuring this out, all those television shows we never watched cause we never understood half of what they were talking about, sort of all made sense now. I was, hah, 'bad in bed', so to speak. I crawled up on the bed completely to hover over her side completely.

She still look completely spent, but I might as well try. She was well aware of my looming presence behind her, but she didn't open my eyes before I bent down and curiously touched the folds on her vagina with my own fingers. My touch was feather-light, and I was lacking in too much knowledge to be confidant, but I just needed to find that area.

"oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, my fingers still probing her core, and thats when I knew I had found it. Keeping my fingers ontop to hold the place, I maneuvered myself closer and in front of her. She watched me with wide, catlike eyes, smiling the slightest bit as her neck followed my form change position.

Without saying a word, I quietly pushed in. My eyes closed as I concentrated on pushing in and out, but the pleasure was an overwhelming distraction, despite the fact that the heavy breaths coming from beneath me were encouraging. I was trying hard not to get too ahead of myself, cause that was obviously where I had messed up before, but it was _so_ hard, when it just felt _so_ good. I started breathing heavily as saturation fell down my back. I really wanted to take that fucking shirt off, but I couldn't.

"Fang.. you feel so good inside of me..," she said, but I ignored her, trying to focus on thrusting.

She writhed beneath me, and I seemed to be doing well. Her knees had come up to hook around my hips, making it easier for me to go in and out—but it wasn't helping me in terms of trying to keep it all in. Every time it felt like I was about to go over and explode, I suddenly stopped in all hopes and efforts to keep it all in. After a moment or two, I'd slowly start again, thrusting at slow and unsteady intervals, but going in really deep (which she seemed to enjoy particularly), and later on I'd naturally catch up speed into a rhythm until I felt like exploding all over again. It'd continue like that, but it was so fucking physically straining. I had to try so hard, it was killing me inside, but it felt so damn good the closer and closer I got.

"Fang.. stop fucking teasing me," Brigid said in a hoarse, breathy voice. My eyes opened as I heard her spoke. She thought I was teasing her? Did she understand how much of a fucking tease I was getting every 2 seconds? How much effort it takes to stop once you get _so fucking _close?! She didn't _know _how much she was enjoying this.

Her hand raised up to touch my face. The other was clenched ontop of her breast. The free one was bouncing up and down in time with the rhythm in which I was thrusting my hard member into her.

She was so small, and looked _so_ cramped beneath me. I was thrusting into her, with the headboard of her bed being the medium for keeping her still, so I was pushing her into the back of the board on the bed, surrounded by pillows. I pushed her hand off of my face.

It didn't feel right. I didn't like it. I didn't feel comfortable with her touching in me in that way anymore. I concentrated on thrusting into her.

Opening my eyes and looking at her was a big mistake though. Her flushed face, her smiling eyes and distraught, breathless, divine mouth pushed me over the edge, her breasts swinging up and down tantalizingly and haphazardly. I couldn't keep it in any more and started ramming into her uninhibitedly.

I was the one putting that desperate look on her face, and I was the one making her scream my name so loud. I reveled in that realization as I quietly pushed into her, over and over again, harder and harder each time. And then finally I exploded against her, slumping over her form, spilling everything out. I tried to keep myself up on my elbows after I was completely done, but the quivering was enough to let me know that I shouldn't even bother.

The first groan that came out of my mouth throughout the entirety of the sex released from my mouth as I propelled myself to the side keep from squishing her beneath me. I was breathing heavily and felt like a thousand trucks had run me over—yeah, I felt _that_ tired. Who knew sex could be so rewarding and so frickin tiring at the same time?

But in the end, it had felt so fucking good.

I felt a hand on my chest, and then Brigid softly kissing my neck. Tiredly I reached my hand over to touch her.

"Fang.. you were holding out on me.. I was so scared at first when you'd came in 2 seconds, I thought I'd devirginized some random guy.. I felt like a total slut for a second," she murmured against my neck, half sleepily, "But you're really good..," she continued.

I shrugged off the compliment. To be honest, I felt like sleeping right now as well, but I knew I couldn't. I needed to get back home.

Slut? Now, I finally understood what slut meant. And yeah, she _was_ one. From what I knew about society, sex wasn't something you had with people you just met, unless you were Carrie Bradshaw. No, nevermind, I thought, thinking back to what I'd seen before. Sex _was_ often something that people had frivolously, and it seemed to happen all the time (or at least it was described that way), but it was.. _suggested_ to have it with emotional implications?

What the fuck did that mean?

All I knew was that, this felt good, but it felt_ wrong_, it felt _so_ wrong on _so_ many different levels.

I was doing something.. something unethical, and I knew it.

Brigid was tiredly climbing up from my neck to place kisses on my upper jaw and the side of my lips now. I sighed in the afterglow. It sort of all made sense now.. Sex, the penis hardening, the.. the feeling. The good feeling. Thats why people wanted it _so _much.

But.. but good people, they abstained, didn't they?

I frowned as I realized there was still alot of stuff that I didn't understand. Amazing how good sex felt, it was amazing that all the hype on tv was.. was just this. Sex? It was sticking your excretory organs together.. thats what it was: the big goddamned secret. They were so goddamned allusive on tv, and they made it impossible to figure out even though it was so simple. It all made sense now, and it was pretty dumb to be so coveted. What was there to really hide?

A thought suddenly struck me, apprehension dawning on my face as it circulated throughout the neurons of my brain.

"Brigid.. you're not gonna get pregnant, are you?" I trailed off, hoping she didn't sense that panic in my voice. No wings.. no wings..

We stopped believing the stork story a while ago. TV made it clear that babies came from sex. Just exactly what sex was.. now I knew. Panic began to rise up within me. I hoped it wouldn't be like the Montel show where she'll try to prove that I'm the negligant father of her baby, or some shit like that. I started to grow, very very very worried. We'd done it twice now. TWO babies? what the fuck, what the fuck, what was I supposed to do?! I was only thirteen, I was only thirteen, it wasn't even proper for me to be having sex, but she obviously didn't understand this. I looked her age, I guess about a high schooler, however old that should be, thats what I looked like and thats what she took me as.

I screwed up, big time.

She looked up sleepily, attention seeming to come back onto her face. She reached over me, and with half-lidded eyes reached over my chest, slumping across the width of the bed to rummage around for something in her bedside table drawer that she hadn't closed before, from when she was bandaging me.

She dazedly pointed at something vague in there, next to the box of bandaids, random miscellaneous earrings, scissors, duct tape. It was the small see-through semi-circulare case full of oval-shaped pills I had noticed earlier when she had been cleaning up my cut.

"I'm on birth control, to like, regulate my period," she murmered serenely, yawning the slightest bit.

Her hands whispering out over my chest played with the rim of my shirt uncomfortably. I shuffled a bit. She couldn't see what was underneath that.

So, I supposed the answer was a no. I don't think its exactly orthodox for someone as young as her to have a child either, evidenced by those tv sitcoms we never watched. And I sure as fuck was sure that it wasn't exactly orthodox for a thirteen year old kid like me to be having sex either.

I'd like to say that, yaknow--we, the flock, aren't pretty orthodox either, but for some reason the implications of this situation seemed to exceed such menial jokes. I don't think this was something to just joke around about. It seemed like pretty goddamned serious, for such frivolous consummation.

There was a still few things that didn't piece out exactly, I thought, furrowing my eyebrows. I still needed to figure some stuff out. I pushed her prying hands off of me and decided she was touching my torso a bit---_way_ too much for my liking.

Leaning over the bed, I grabbed my jeans and tiredly got up to sit on the edge of the mattress and slide socks onto my feet before putting my jeans on. I felt Brigid's eyes watch me. It was already about half past 11, I really needed to go.

"Fang.. can I see you tomorrow?" she asked quietly, looking up at me, conscious of herself.

My pushing her hands off must've been a bit harsh, I realized, especially to a girl who had hypothetically 'given' herself to me. That seemed like it was a big deal, from what I knew. But the act.. what we had just done.. it was just so.. goddamned_ frivolous_. It felt like nothing.

I didn't.. I didn't like it.

All that hype, all that shit, and in the end, this was all that it was. Sex, and it felt so goddamned meaningless.. it felt trivial, and yet its been made to sound like something extraordinary. Some fucking 7th wonder of the world.

No, thats wrong, I realized. It was a wonder, it really was, but.. it was me who was feeling dissatisfied with what had just happened. It was just me, mulling these thoughts over in my head. It felt meaningless, but thats only because I wished it didn't. I didn't expect it to be.. like, this. And try as hard as I was, I couldn't find anything deep in what I had just done. I was.. I was dissapointed in myself, I'd realized. Dissapointed in the hype.

Don't get me wrong; I had liked it alot. I had loved it, it had been great. It had felt fucking awesome. But.. somewhere deep inside, I was unsettled. It was uncomfortable, and it didn't feel right. Maybe it was guilt. It most likely, probably was, because I shouldn't be here in the first place. By having sex with some menial girl, I'm jeopardizing the security and lives of my flock. Maybe thats why I was feeling so unsettled right now. Maybe thats why I wanted to get away from her as fast as possible. I didn't even want to fucking look at her dumb, stupid, face.

Lust. Thats what had caused this. I'd been ruled by lust. It had power for me, it had power over me.

I felt so.. so.. dissapointed in myself. I'm so close to ruining everything for our flock.. and I did it why? Over lust, cause I was ruled by lust.

I hated that, I hated that something or someone ruled me, ruled my actions. Thats what caused me to do this.

But zipping up and buttoning my jeans, I decided I hated this fucking girl. Useless, bitch, hoe, _slut_. How could I do this?

But I turned around anyway, and waves of guilt smashed against my the lining of my forehead on the inside with the sight I was faced with.

I felt so confused.

There was sudden apprehension and fear written in her eyes. Her small, tiny form, lay on the bed, completely unclothed now. She looked like a child in so many ways. There was no way that this thing was reserved for adults. She looked small and helpless, despite looking so breathtakingly alluring and beautiful, laying there, naked. I can't believe that I had been ramming myself into her just a few minutes ago. She was _so_ small. And she had felt _so _good. I took pity on her and an incredible urge to wipe that inkling of fear off her face overcame me. I leaned over the bed and fit my hand over her to rub the side of her waist.

"Of course," I reassured her, because I knew that that was what she wanted to hear.

Would I really see her? I didn't know. I needed to figure some things out. I need to sort things out and think all this over.

I was still right about before. I had stepped into the home of someone living outside. I was getting myself into a lot right now, and I had done it with the first step I had taken.

Slowly, silently, I stepped off the rooftop and fell into the air, flying to the bottom of the cliffs where I'd left all the groceries before heading up back up the hills to the E-shaped house.

It was already pretty late, and despite it all, I hoped Max had gone to sleep. She didn't need another reason to lose sleep. She had to learn that I wasn't worth it—that she didn't need to waste time or energy over me, because I didn't _need _it. She could baby Gazzy, she could baby Iggy or Nudge and Angel, but I—I didn't need that. She had to understand that. She was only hurting herself, and she was hurting me, she was hurting me _so _much by hurting herself over me. She had to understand and she had to stop.

The house was dark, since we didn't have lights installed into our ceilings. If lights were to show through our windows, our house would be easy prey for helicopters and other people searching for us. Our days begin and end with daylight. However, there was no noise coming from inside, (which was definately not a frequent occurrence), so the flock must probably all asleep by now, I assumed, satisfied.

I opened the front door with a creak and swing, pushing it open with my feet as my arms carried the tumultuously insane amount of grocery bags in. I set most of them up on the kitchen counter and some on the floor next the kitchen table.

I unbagged a few and set the miscellaneous items ontop of the table so that Max could look through them and sort them out, and left some of the bags with solely food items on the table for Iggy to sort through in the morning. Certain bags I put away myself, like the milk and eggs into the fridge. The rest I left on the floor for the flock to look through in the morning.

I hoped Angel would be surprised with the lollipop and Nudge happy with her shirt. Absentmindedly I remembered the hairspray and rummaged around a bit before I found it in one of the bags and swiftly threw it into a random drawer beneath me so that Iggy could find it eventually. We couldn't have Gazzy finding that in the morning while looking through the bags, now could we?

Yawning, I looked around the floor before I decided that I had cleaned and sorted out enough of the necessities, for the rest to be sorted out in the morning and headed to bed.

Washing up in the bathroom and changing my clothes, throwing the ones I had worn today into the hamper, I walked out and immediately bumped into Max. On sight of her, I grew angry. It was already around 1, and she should be in bed by now. Max saw the irritation sitting on my face, ready to explode into a thousand bits but she didn't look guilty in the slightest.

"I was waiting for you to get back and see if you found anything else out," she said, looking up at me. She had gotten really short these days. No. That doesn't really make sense, I realized. I guess I'd been growing a lot, since she looked mad small these days.

"I'll see you on the roof?" she asked questioningly, nodding at my sign of consent before walking away.

It was the perfect night to stay up and talk. The weather was ideal, honey dew from the previous rainstorm lingering in the air, the late spring weather now divine. I had recalled thinking about wanting to talk to Max tonight, but now.. now.. after all this.. I no longer felt like it. But I nodded, nevertheless.

Drying my face with my towel, I headed to my room to throw a shirt on over my head. I was surprised Max hadn't lectured me about not wearing one previously, but she was probably getting used to it. And either way, I was justified, completely under the impression everyone was asleep. (But regardless, I shouldn't do it either way, since its a bad habit, blahblahblah whatever).

Tired and unwilling, I unhinged the bars in front of my window and climbed up on the current to sit on the roof next to Max. It was quiet for a moment, peaceful, before she spoke.

"So what did you find out?" she asked serenely. I put my head into my hands, and thought quietly for a second about how to go about explaining it to her.

Well, I hadn't completely gotten anything through yet anyway. I still had to figure some stuff out.

"Alot," I trailed off. It was vague, but true. Max turned her head to look at me, probably slightly agitated, but I didn't bother to return the glare.

"So..?" she asked impatiently.

Oh, what a shame, I had completely destroyed her previously serene demeanor. The atmosphere was nice, it was _so_ goddamned perfect, and I had to go and be _me_, though, right? I suck, I know, whatever.

"So." I admonished, nodding slowly. I got up and I swiftly jumped down onto the railings in front of my window. I caught a glimpse of a hurt look on Max's face as I left.

I just always made her hurt.

* * *

Bah-ah Humbug.

For those of you who hate the slow pace, I'm having a tiny time skip soon, so say hi to elation.

Sorry for that extra M-frigid stuff.** THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE A FANG/BRIGID STORY.**

I mean, if I had been planning on doing that, I definately would not have made the story directly say "**Fang and Max**" up on the toolbar.

IT WILL BE FANG AND MAX.

and Brigid is just a **catalyst**. Just.. a **catalyst**.

And this is the last of much Frigid you shall see.

THIS IS DEFINATELY FANG/MAX. PLEASE DONT STOP READING BECAUSE OF THIS SHORT SEGWAY! ITS A CATALYST, for the SAKE of Fax. =((

Ah. These negative reviews are making me feel SAD. =(

Its making me so sad, that I'm putting an ultimatum up. And you know that I'm against this. Its just that I've already explained that she's simply a catalyst and that its still Fang+Max.

Good Luck with that, good luck with that. I write for myself, and I post my chapters up so you guys can enjoy them too. If you guys aren't enjoying them whats the point of posting them up?

Well. Just, well. I'll keep writing on MSword then. It won't really interfere with my life, because afterall, I don't _really_ _need_ people telling me how much they hate something. Its not my loss, because I'm still writing this story. You know, this story is going to be EPIC, so 3 Frigid chapters aren't a big deal next to the rest, but if you guys think that its enough to stop reading/reviewing, well, it makes me sad. It makes me very sad.

Reviews make me happy, because people care enough to encourage. Flames make me giggle, because they care enough to complain.

But when people thrust their own implications unto myself.. that.. just makes me sad. Which is why I'm putting up an ultimatum.

Bye, =(


	19. Things that Haunt Confusion

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Nineteen**: Tragedy Never Makes Anyone a Perfect Person.

Its been about three weeks since that night Fang had come back late. Three weeks since he'd pushed my forehead against his lips before he'd left out into the pouring rain.

I'd fixed the hole in the attic that Iggy and Gazzy had blown through during their last prototype testing, finished the laundry, cleaned up the crayon scribbles on Nudge's wall that Gazzy had done when they'd argued, made sure Angel had learned how to do a side-swerve, scavenged around to find and throw out some blueprints of Iggy's...

It was three weeks of quiet, tense, subtlety. Three weeks of gray matter, three weeks of sleep with my eyes wide awake.

Thats what it sort of felt like—sleep. I wasn't quite sure why, but I couldn't quite place it.

Fang hadn't come to me about any problems anymore. I couldn't catch him dealing with any either. I'm guessing he got whatever it was, fixed. That, he figured everything out.

I was relieved, dear god, I was pretty goddamned relieved. But why the fuck wasn't he _telling_ me anything?

And I don't mean just anything, I mean absolutely nothing.

Fang wasn't an easy person to speak to, but even then, we spoke to one another. But for the past three weeks, its felt like our relationship.. has been asleep. Its like everything before.. had never even happened. Like he forgot he was ever even sick for that short while. Completely ignored it.

He comes and goes, and I've probably lost track of when he does it anymore. Sometimes he's here and sometimes he's not.. just down below, in town. What does he do there? I've got no idea, but he always comes back with his face looking really dark. If anything, looking so frickin emotionally tired.

I had no idea why he was going so often.. and I didn't feel like I had the nerve to tell him that I didn't like it. I was about to, oneday, lecture him about how he shouldn't risk it so much, but before I could get a word out, he had thrown me a threatening glance.

It was deep, it was intense. It felt like he was begging me with everything he had to just shut up and not say a word. It felt like he knew exactly how I felt.. but almost like.. he was admonishing me.. like telling me that _he knew better _than I did, of his limits, as if he was _preaching_... That I couldn't restrict him from doing what he _needed_, _wanted_ to?

I hated that. I hated that he had to tell me that he knew better. _I_ was supposed to know better. I was Maximum Ride, and I was his flock's leader. These days, why did I always feel so.. small under gaze though?

Its always felt like he was just humoring me, or flattering me by obeying whatever I said. Like he truly couldn't care less. But now, he wasn't even doing that. Instead, he was instructing me, and advising me on what to say to _him_. How the heck do you get there, being leader?

My gaping mouth had quietly closed in the intensity of the glare, and I hadn't spoken a word. One glance had released his entire soul, and for the first time in a week, I had actually felt he was _there_. He showed me all of his feelings in just a second, and it had hit me with its fullest throttle. It was probably just the tactic of surprise, but it worked, and it didn't last. He went back to sleep for the following two.

Its like he knew how to work me better than I did, like he had better control of my feelings and emotions than I did. Like I was a puppet on a string, and he had to jerk a finger the slightest bit to get me to show him an entire segment. Like.. like I was just a plaything to beckon at his every whim and tear. I was so sick of it, cause it worked, it worked so well.

These days, he just seemed so fricking drained. He'd come back with his face dark and all tense. I knew he needed to talk to me about it.. but he wouldn't. Where was he getting at with this? I was so confused, but yet not confused at all. Fang confused me, he really did, and often at that. But nowadays, it felt like he was barely there at all, so there was nothing to wonder about. There wasn't anyone to wish to screw their neck over, except perhaps Iggy.

Oh yeah. Gaz's skin is purple now. He looks sort of like, pigeon-colored. He isn't quite purple anymore, but more of a greyish, now that its beginning to fade out. For the first day, all he did was cry on me, cause he thought he was turning into a slimy scaly thing, like how Iggy had told him birds do after they turn purple.

That dumbass, I sighed, turning around to place a wet and clean dish on the drying rack on the counter behind me; I was doing the breakfast dishes. Nudge had apparently found a cherry bush somewhere on the hill to our left, so she took Angel and Gazzy and they went for a day of cherry-picking. Iggy had said he'd make pie.

_Pie_. Man, I was hungry, I realized. Pulling those ridiculous pink rubber gloves off my arms, I placed them in the small amount of empty counter space next to sink and turned to open the fridge and bent down to make an assessment of its inhabitants.

I turned back around with some chicken nuggets in my hand and some mustard, kicking the fridge door closed with the back of my foot.

Sitting down on a stool and shrugging my shoulder up, I absentmindedly got to work on the chicken nuggets that I'd heated up. (Yes, I knew how to work a microwave, tyvm). My thoughts wandered as I absentmindedly wondered where Iggy was. That reminded me of Fang.

Who cares about Fang? I thought angrily. The chicken nugget in my hand got squished in between my forefingers and thumb. Dammit. He was probably in town again. What the heck did he do down there so often? My face childishly contorted in anger as I began to imagine possible ways to castrate him.

Or mummify him. That'd make sure he wouldn't be able to get away.. Oh, the possibilities..

"Whats with the look, beautiful?" I heard a rumbling voice sound above me.

Snapping out of my wandering thoughts, I looked up to see Fang pull a high chair back and sit down across the counter from me. He didn't look so tired, but his hair was flipped back, and haphazardly lain ontop his head, completely windswept. He'd just come from a flight... from town, I wouldn't hesitate to bet. What did he have to do there _this _early?! And what had he done there in.. I looked up to the clock to check the time.. just 30 minutes, since I'd begun to clear up breakfast and he dispersed after eating.

"Whats with the _face_, assface?" I retorted nastily.

I didn't know why I was acting this way. The first time in three weeks Fang and I had spoken together, alone, _casually_, for no particular reason, and it was pissing me off.

His face _did_ look different now though. He shaved off the stray hairs that had begun to grow along his jawline. He looked so much more.. neater now.. a lot more handsome. It was so much more apparent now.

"Oh-ho. Well, you just told me, so I'm not sure how I'm supposed to respond," he said playfully and quietly, his eyes sort of twinkling in the light streaming in from the small kitchen window above the sink facing my back.

I blinked in surprise. He was.. we were actually engaging in.. well, one couldn't really call this a conversation, but still. I mumbled a vague response in embarrassment.. my last diss hadn't exactly been.. uh, notable. And who the freak has eyes that _twinkle_?!

"What was that?" he asked, smiling. I swore my heart skipped a beat.

He maneuvered himself over the counter, picking his jaws off of his palms as his elbows supported him as he leaned close to me.

The close proximity startled me, frightened me, sort of. He turned his head and thrust the side of his face and left ear in my direction, and I could see the slight smile reach his eyes even against his side profile.

He was so close I could smell his thick, wavy black hair like heat through my nostrils. He had gotten a haircut recently, in town, and it was shorter now. It was perfectly trimmed now.. and it looked pretty darn good. I wondered whether or not he'd bought a new shampoo from downtown, cause it didn't smell like what the rest of the flock used.

Absentmindedly, I thought about scolding him on how he shouldn't waste the money that we don't know where we're getting from, but those thoughts quickly escaped me as he turned his head. His face was now probably two centimeters away from my own, still smiling handsomely, eyes still.. _twinkling. _My shoulders tensed subconsciously at the close proximity, startled. He searched my eyes for something, but I don't think he could see anything in there except surprise and perhaps, an inkling of doubt.

He pulled back, sitting back down in his chair and replacing his jaw in his palms again, still looking like he was assessing my face and my reactions.

I found my self-conciousness simply transcending into irritation. What the heck was he staring at, bejeezus h. christ.

My eyebrows furrowed, giving away hints of the irritation gracing my mind, eliciting a smirk from him.

Something I hadn't seen in, what felt like ages. It felt like I hadn't seen him at all in ages. I wondered what was up with him now, and why he seemed so happy, after weeks of coming back from his outings with his mind looking so drained, and his face looking so dark and illustrious. Why he was acting so.. strange.. so.. suddenly upbeat, and bright? It was upbeat beyond himself, and it was pissing me off.

He never called anyone beautiful. That comment in itself had.. _pissed me off_, which is probably why my response had transcended into such a pathetic diss.

Seriously. _Whats wrong with your face, assface_? What was I _thinking_? Mentally, I groaned at the thought, remembering what I had just said. Pushing those thoughts outside of my head, I matched Fang's playful stare with a hard glare-down of my own.

"Fang, whats wrong with you?" I asked him seriously. And perhaps not-so-nicely.

What I really wanted to know was why he decided to talk to me now after three weeks of silent subtleties, and three weeks of barely being much less anywhere. And then he had decided to just_ not_ be... typical?

His face darkened as the question and words escaped my mouth. I could see the twinkling in his eyes disappear quickly and dramatically. His face was devoid of all and any emotion, however. It was hard.

He was asking me what _my _problem, did I have to go and ruin all this stuff?

And to be honest, I didn't quite know. Here I was picking a fight with a Fang who was in an unprecedented, however delightfully upbeat mood.

I almost felt a touch of blame grace his eyes.. He was telling me that the answer to the question, was me_—_that it was _my_ fault. All my own freaking fault. It made me feel guilty for a second, and it made me want to peruse a self-reflection, but no, he wasn't worth it. How the heck could it be _my_ fault? _HE_ was the one with the need of an attitude adjustment. All he did was send mixed signals, play hot and cold. Thats _all_ hes been doing for a while now. And he had the audacity to say that it was because of _me_?

I just wanted to know _why_. I wanted to know _what was _wrong_ with him. _

I guess that had come out wrong from my mouth though. I corrected myself, in hopes of salvaging anything at all for what it was worth.

"Why, why.... are you okay?" my throat croaked weakly. I gave him a look that asked him all the questions I couldn't bring myself to dictate.

He read it all. He understood everything that I was asking and everything I didn't know. He saw the conflicts battle it out in my head, yet he still sent me a hard glare back, unrelenting. But I had no idea what it meant or what he was trying to say to me. I felt like a failure.

Getting up, he turned around.

"Bye," his words whistled in the air in the space behind him and me as he walked away, leaving me sitting at the table thinking about how much I'd screwed up the nothing that was there.

He had known and understood everything I was asking.

He heard it all and ignored it.

What am I supposed to do?

His hot and cold attitude was killing me, slowly, gradually, but surely. And here I thought he was something dependable. It felt like everything was falling down, collapsing on me. I didn't know Fang being so standoffish could make my life so miserable. I didn't know the flock could _be_ so miserable. What was happening?

Ever since.. then, that night when he'd gotten sick, it hadn't been right.

Sure, we bickered. We disagreed on things, all the time. But its like those big issues, like going into town and like keeping things from me, its like, they'd all escalated dramatically into bigger issues that I didn't know how to handle, especially with the way he was dealing with them.

And Fang wasn't there anymore. He wasn't there for me, and he didn't seem.. stable. He was here and there, sometimes and not, his actions towards me.. thats all they were.. hot and cold.

I was getting sick of this. I wanted to beat him up. I wanted to castrate him. Teach him a lesson, and keep him hostage and make sure that he stopped being _so_ freaking irritating. Say one thing, and be done with it, why don't you? I was _so_ freaking sick of it. Couldn't he just be absolute for a moment? Like how it _used_ to be?

That bird boy was eating my brains out. I was Maximum Ride. I was his leader, and I was supposed to know everything. He obviously needed a reminder.

Damn, well he'll sure be getting one, I admonished.

My hurt, usually dries up into anger and resentment.

Anger and resentment are easier emotions, more straightforward if you know what I mean.

But thats usually how I fuck up.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I stormed off, away from Max.

She still didn't get it.

I knew I've been being a jerk the past few weeks, I know that I've been acting like a downright jackass. I was fully aware of it.

Yeah, that makes me sound ten times more awful, now, doesn't it?

I got back from town this morning and decided to repent. I wasn't in a.. _bad_ mood, and I guess that was what had surprised her.

I'd gone into town to see Brigid. It was a Saturday, so she didn't have school.

Everytime I came back from there, I could see fear written in the faces of my flock members. My agitation was written on my face as clear as day whenever I came back. It hit me so hard that and as much as I tried to deny it, my appearance would still betray me. They could see it written on my face, and they were scared. They didn't know what was happening, or what my issue was.

I knew I was in a bad mood whenever I came back from there, and to be completely honest, I'd rather not interact with them at all if _that_ is what they had to deal with.

It was just better off overall to not interact with them at all, if they had to deal with me in all my sucktastic glory if they had to.

Stepping out into the porch, slamming the door shut behind me I walked to middle of an area of grass and sat down, running my hands through my hair agitatedly. It was a lot shorter now. The feeling was different.

Rubbing my scalp, I wondered how I could fix this.. how I could fix_ myself. _I didn't know what I was doing.

No, I did know. I didn't know _why_. I needed to sort out priorities, I needed to measure myself out. I needed.. to take a good look at myself, cause I was beginning to wonder what I was doing.

I didn't like it, trust me, I didn't like it. Everytime I screwed Brigid, I'd come back pissed off, angry, tired, emotionally drained. I didn't know what to do. It was like a vicious cycle of destruction. I hated it.

I hated her and I hated _it_. I hated her so much. There was nothing there, there was absolutely nothing there.

It felt like the entire world had coming crashing down on me after that night, after the first or second time we'd done it. Cause suddenly, it felt like nothing mattered anymore. Cause thats all there was to life. Fuck, pleasure, then you're done with.

Because there was _nothing _there. It was just pleasure, it was just lust. It was building up to get to that feeling.. orgasm, I'd read, in a Biology textbook.

I wanted to do it with Max. I wanted our bodies to sweat and our hearts to beat fast.

I wanted to ease the tension, I wanted to say sorry, I wanted to stop being such a fuck up.

She'd be so much better off without me in her life, but then what would she do?

What would the flock do? They needed me, I knew it, but they'd be better off without.

I couldn't leave, but I wish I could.

She depended on me, but I didn't know what I was doing these days. I was being irresponsible, I was being greedy, I felt like I just didn't care anymore.

Thats the fact of the matter. I felt like I just didn't care anymore. Thats why my actions didn't betray me. I was _acting_ like I just didn't care anymore, but all of a sudden I knew that I had to, even though I felt like I didn't because I didn't _want_ to.

But I hated Brigid, I hated her so much, I wished she would just go away.

The truth of the matter is that _it_ was destroying me from the inside.

I was so damn confused. My forehead rested in my hands.

This was way too much for me. It was too much.

I felt like a failure. I hated Jeb, I hated him so much. So what if I could get erections, so what if I could have sex, so what if Max and I were put in charge of three little kids. So what? I was still thirteen.

And god, was I fucked up.

Maybe Max was right. Maybe I should never have gone down into town to begin with. Cause lately, recently, these days, all I've been doing is comparing myself to other people—these were the standards of normality—cause I couldn't help it. Thats _what we_ _would have been_ if we hadn't had these wings grafted unto our backs.

Don't get me wrong, I loved these wings, it was a part of who I was.

But the implications that this wrought on our lives, it was overwhelming. It was goddamned, way overwhelming. Sometimes, maybe, it felt like too much. But it wouldn't feel that way if I didn't know that things _could_ have been easier.

Cause now I was in a mess, now I _was_ a mess, and I didn't know what to do, cause I was making Max's life heck. Indirectly.

Cause thats what I did. Everything was indirect and unstable and tonsure, and wavering.

I was giving her a hot and cold attitude, cause thats what I did: I acted on instinct.

And I didn't want to talk when I was in a bad mood.

Somehow, now that I was in a good mood, I'd still fucked things up.

I guess things just don't work that way. You can't selectively do as you please, when there are other actual people involved. If only Max was easy enough to push around, but no, she was the Maximum Ride, the stubborn girl I was infatuated with.

Was, I _was_ infatuated with. Brigid, she helps me get my mind off of things, off of _her_. Thats why I kept going at first. But I hated _it_, I found myself hating it so much, and I hated the feeling of what we did. I hated the word _we. _I hated.. I hated the sex. It felt so good, yet I wanted to choke her so bad for making me feel that way. I hated her. She kept my mind off of things but I hated her so much, cause it felt _so _good.

I'd gone this morning again, but as I opened the door, she had looked at me, pouting endearingly and engulfed in her covers with the remote sitting on top. She had said she was on her period, so she couldn't have sex. I had nodded slowly, not having a clue as to what she meant, but then she had asked me for a massage.

Gently, I had placed my hands on her back, and she had urged me to go lower, against her hipbones. I kneaded slowly, articulately, but at some point I started to feel sick to my stomach. I didn't want to do this, and I didn't want to touch her. I needed to get away from her. I said I needed to go quickly and flew back to the house.. and I felt good, I had felt really good inside once I had got there.

I felt bright and happy, relieved for once.. I just felt free, and I spotted Max sitting on the counter eating a large snack of chicken nuggets and mustard, looking like she was daydreaming, deep in thought.

So I decided to go up to her, only to see her face grimace suddenly, her fingers clenching on the chicken nugget she was airily holding about in mid-air, destroying it. I smiled as a fierce grimace enlightened her face, wondering what she was daydreaming about.

She looked back at me, superlatively surprised, and countered me with an awful excuse of a diss.

Thats when I'd realized that, God, I had missed her so much, thats what I'd realized, even against her horrible temper, her pathetic lack of ability in noting subtelty, and against her incredible superiority complex, as I stared at her against the counter, sitting across from her.

Thats when I'd realized, and then I realized how fucked up I am.

Which left me to my current predicament and my current disposition. What the heck was I supposed to do?

Looking up, and letting go of my face, I sighed. I didn't know what the fuck I was supposed to do, I wanted to take my mind off of things.

Maybe I'd just go down to the library and read up on more things. I was learning a lot, this was all just a part of puberty. And it wasn't bird-like in any way, but human, and it interested me a lot.

I needed to ignore all this; I'd get back to it when I needed to. I'd stop seeing Brigid, and I knew that I needed to stop now. She was making me was to tear and explode from the inside, and it was such a vicious cycle that I didn't even know what I wanted from her.

I hitched a ride on an air current, rising up on the wind as I felt the breaths of whooshing air smack against my face like flipping solitaire cards on a table.

I was avoiding the issue, yes, I was avoiding the problem, yes—both of them—but at least I was doing something consciously that held any semblance of sense, rather than just going back to Brigid, although I was pretty sure that I couldn't just stop being a jerk to Max so easily.

We were too far gone, and it'd take a while before we could get back, and I knew Angel was hating my guts at this point.

I had to fix that, but I had time.

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**A/N:**

First off, I now understand why people put up ultimatums.(Cause it works).

But I hate it when authors do it. And I'll never do it again. Promise.

Sorry for all that steam, on the last chapter, and I took it all off.

Really, it was just a moment of weakness where I decided to rant and whine to a bunch of people who don't know me. I don't really whine like that in real life. It was.. I was just caught up.

I got some uh. Some advice. And I got some uh.. .....comments. For half, all I can say is: _dude, I don't like ultimatums either, but CHILL_. =.=

I dont think I'd intended to play the pity card or the sympathy pull. I just_ really_ did not intend to continue posting up this story. Which is PRECISELY why I picked such a ludicrous number. ...I didn't actually think I'd reach it.. and I definitely didn't think I'd reach it in less than ONE freaking day. O_O

So.. kudos to you guys. It actually took _**6 hours**_, I posted at 9 pm, and reached it by 2 am. My inbox sort of died with the impact of the throttle...

And uh, what else. Oh yeah. In response to some of that advice I got. I'm not a junior or a senior.

I turned in March so.. yeah, can't put all of that advice to use. And there wouldn't really be a point in moving out. My sister and I live in an apt, and my dad travels a lot so when I say that my mom lives with him, thats what I mean. When they're here, they stay at our house in, but my sis and I live in our apartment, since our commutes to school are easier that way. Despite that, I really do appreciate the efforts that you guys made, to those of you who made nice ones =) And.. I repeat.. I did _not_ intend to pay the pity card.. I really didn't plan on continuing the story, and I thought it'd be a legit excuse to not update.

Obviously, that plan didn't work out.. thanks to you guys -.-

I wrote that A/N with every intention of leaving the story. Between chapters 16 and 17, I had counted 62 individual frigid hater reviews. I just sort of got sick of it, so in my bad mood, I decided that if you guys weren't going to like it, then I just wasn't going to post it up anymore. I was gonna make it up to you by starting another story.

Okay. So I'll be REALLY honest. I don't think I got more than 6 or 7 **actual **haters out of all these reviews. I _misconstrued_ Frigid haters to people who were _actually_ hating on my _story_. I'm sorry, but I was pretty sad in the first place, and I just got sadder when I thought that people were hating on the story, and not just the pairing. Sorry, sorry, its my fault. But its **easy** to mix that up, when people don't clarify that its _just_ Frigid that they dislike, and not my writing. __

No, I'm not italian. My cousins just live there. I'm going to Australia too, and Brazil. I've never been to Brazil before. I wonder what that'll be like. Someone said that it sounds like I've got a lot of chapters written already. Well.. you're wrong. That would've been right on any other chapter but 18. This is the first chapter in this entire story that I've had to write for the _sake_ of updating. You guys made me feel guilty, so I wrote 19 just for the sake of updating. 18 was the last one I had written in my spare time. And then I ran out. That, coupled with the lack of encouragement I was getting from you guys, just made me not want to bother writing again. (Which explains my intentions of abandoning this story). I need to go study for fucking regents now ;[ I was procrastinating. Sorry if this chapter isn't so good.. it was written under pressure.. Following ones WILL be better, promise!!

Oh yeah, and I love all those who reviewed with encouragement. Those who reviewed more than once made me really giggle. =) You can thank yourselves, cause you made me feel real guilty and rethink the posting of the story.

But now I feel really irresponsible, cause I've got nothing left to post. I actually _need_ to type now. Hey, I warned you guys though. You guys have gotten THREE 7,000 word chapters in ONE week. Talk about _fast_ updates? The downside to that is that now I've run out of chapters! And hey, all I can say is, wow. No, really, wow. For everyone who was nice and cared: if people like you are going to grow up and run the nation, then I sincerely won't mind. Strangers who care, or at least make the effort to pretend that they care.. its just really.. wow. You left me so speechless, I sound dumb.

=) Life is good. Let's appreciate. [the fact that we know what dicks are for].

Haha, later.


	20. Crust

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?  


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Chapter Twenty**: Crust

He had stopped going back into town these days. He still did it frequently, but nowadays he didn't come back looking moody, sulky, _angry_, anymore. His face didn't suddenly appear, dark and threatening, as soon as the front door slammed.. he wasn't so unapproachable anymore. His eyes were alert, his face clear, these days. Fang went back to actually interacting with the flock, much like how it was before.

He'd pick Angel up and swing her around spontaneously, he'd humour Nudge during one of her rants, he'd get up early and help Igs with breakfast. They'd goof off and do as they usually did, and he took time out to throw a ball around with Gazzy. The kids were happy, they were _so_ happy that he had gotten out of his mood, whatever it had been.

Silent, soft-spoken to the bare minimum, but with a reassuring, dependable presence.. that was what Fang was supposed to be. It was awful to have responsibilities thrust unto you, but the fact of the matter was that we needed him. I needed him.

But for some reason, he still wasn't there though, for me, at least. I'm pretty sure it wasn't just me who had noticed either. There was something off about how Iggy behaved with him as well. It was.. guarded, wary, nearly as if he wasn't sure if he could speak to him in the same way as he could have before.. there was something he wasn't telling us. The younger kids couldn't sense it, but it was still weird between us; it was still weird, no matter how normal it seemed, there was just something missing. Thats what happens when you know someone too well.. its hard to go back when you can judge them so distinctly and see them so clearly.. thats why it was just so hard.

It was lacking lustre, and I didn't know how to fix it. Fang wasn't even making an effort, not anymore, like he had done the other day. Of course, I had supposedly screwed that up.

I sighed, watching Fang and Iggy mess around in front of the kitchen counter, making blueberry waffles. It was some new recipe Iggy was trying out and he'd never made waffles from scratch before.

"Yo, yo man, thats way too much sugar!" Iggy exclaimed, as Fang poured some into the bowl.

"You can't even see," Fang countered indignantly. He wasn't the type that liked to have his cooking skills—much less any of his skills—questioned.

"Dude, that is WAY too much sugar," Iggy stressed. Fang stopped pouring, and set the bag of sugar down on the counter. He reached up to scratch his nose, idly assessing the mixture he had been adding sugar to. Yeah, it was way too much sugar.

"They like sugar," he stated blankly, blinking a few times. I felt my forehead touch the counter as my head slumped off of my palms.. they could be so stupid sometimes.. It was worth a smacking your head over.

But it was early morning, and I was too tired to make that much of an effort. Planting your head on top a desk-like surface would suffice.. it used less energy. I wasn't in the mood to do much moving around either, my abdomen was hurting and feeling very uncomfortable. Absentmindedly, I thought that I probably slept the wrong way last night. Remind me never to do that again. It felt like a bitch, that I was cursing inwardly. Thank god Angel hadn't come down yet to hear the profanities undulating around in my mind.

I was sitting on the counter watching them interact, having already set out the kitchen table, hesitantly clutching my stomach beneath the countertop so that they couldn't see it. I was feeling a bit useless and tired right now, but it was breakfast time, and I was courteously non-invited to join the cooking entrepreneurship anyway, as per usual. So I watched, just rolling my eyes at their antics. I could _so_ do better, they just didn't let me try..

Gazzy was the first to come down the stairs; he reached the table that I'd set up and sat down neatly in a fresh set of clothes, looking quite energized. I got up off the stool hesitantly, letting go of my stomach, and went to go sit down with him at the kitchen table.

Like Nudge, Gazzy was hard to get up in the mornings, but after washing up, he was perfectly perfect and energetic, and ready for action—which I must admit, can get _pretty_ irritating at times. Ah, who am I kidding? It got_ pretty_ irritating, _pretty_ darn often.

"Hi Max, whats for breakfast?" he asked.

I turned and nevertheless, smiled at his endearing childlike demeanor. The cowlick on his forehead matched his eager light blond eyebrows, raised high on his forehead. His eyes were bright and his expression earnest, matching the perpetual boyish eagerness painted on his face.

"I dunno, ask them," I replied sardonically, rolling my eyes as I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at the two bickering teenaged guys behind the counter.

"Thats it Fang, just go sit down, man. This waffles thing is definitely _not _your gig," Iggy commended, shaking his head disappointedly at him, his sightless blue eyes closed dejectedly.

He slammed his arm straight into the air out over the other end of the counter, pointing over towards the kitchen table, urging him to sit down far, far away from the cooking.

Fang chuckled in response, and playfully punched Iggy's shoulder before ducking underneath his arm. He walked around the edge of the counter to the fridge to pour himself a glass of orange juice before making his way to the Gazzers and I.

"Hey Fang," the Gasman greeted.

"Hey kiddo, whatsup?" Fang replied, rubbing the Gasman's head playfully, before taking the seat on the other side of him. There was still an empty seat between the Gasman and myself. He still hadn't said a word to me.

A bit agitated, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. My jeans felt sticky and uncomfortable on the crotch, like it had been frequently these days. Often these days, I'd find sticky white mucous-like secretions on the insides of my jeans afterwards, like that day when I had wiped myself with the leaf in the forest. I'd say it was rather similar to what had come out of Fang's penis, but this stuff wasn't as fluid-like, but rather thicker, in less quantity, and more pungent.

Nudge climbed down the stairs, her sweet bubbly personality greeting us on impact, as she walked over and took the seat between Gazzy and I. She looked around the table with wide bright eyes and began to chat animatedly. I watched her figure move, almost nearly as if in slow motion.

How jealous I felt, I wouldn't be able to describe to you. So light, so carefree, so innocent.. no worries on their minds.. I couldn't explain how jealous I felt of the kids.

In the middle of the chatter that I had been feigning attention to, I turned my head to capture Fang's glance within my own orbs. He was looking at me from across the table, as if he was gazing at something far, far away. My eyebrows slowly furrowed in the intensity. The noise in the background was easily reduced to radio filter noise and it felt like it was just he and I engaged in a fierce battle, in a still scene. It was apathetic and blank to anyone else, but I could see a hint of sadness in there. His cheekbones were lowered the slightest bit, his cleanly shaven face masking the regret and longing in his eyes. The regret.. he regretted too.

Its been a whole month of stillness.

He blinked once, twice, his expression unwavering and not changing, before he turned his head away to respond to something Angel had said as she reached the table. He dragged his eyes and pupils off of my face longingly, as if stripping them away and tearing them out harshly and painfully.

Thats what I was.. a pain to his eyes, just a whisper intruding into his ears. We were something neither of us wanted to see all too well. There was too much unspoken longing between the two of us, and its been a month. It wasn't me who was hiding all of it away, but I was involved so heavily, so deeply, that I felt like the current was dragging me away, on the tides of an open beach shore. I didn't even know where this predicament had arose; it couldn't be me. And I was so confused.

My eyebrows having furrowed deeply as we parted during the exchange, I slowly turned my head as well, to drag my eyes from the sight of him perusing a playful discussion with Angel, in order to ask Iggy how far along breakfast was coming. The flock had already gathered and clustered down, done with their morning rituals.

"Uh.. I think its gonna take a while. Say, twenty? Sorry, Max, but I blame Fang," he said apologetically, his head jerked up over his shoulder to face me.

"Yeah, its okay, we can wait. Take your time, I'm sure it'll be worth it," I replied easily in response.

I sighed as another odd bubbling feeling hit my gut uncomfortably.. Eating didn't feel like an admirable prospect, but it did, at the same time. My stomach felt so indecisive right now, and the aches sure weren't helping. I decided to go change my pants, the wetness feeling underneath was growing by the second, and it was feeling way too uncomfortable.

"Hey, I'm going upstairs to check up on something, I'll be right back," I absentmindedly told the flock. I made sure to get up from my seat with solid, fluid movements and walk up to the staircase whilst making sure not to hold my waist in front of them lest they overreact. When I had reached the stop of the staircase, I clutched my waist again, bending down a little bit, halfway to fetal position because it felt soothing to be in at that particular moment.

But no, man, Maximum Ride, I was Maximum Ride. There was nothing wrong with me.. I needed to man up.

I straightened up, but mentally groaned as I did this and went into the closest bathroom, which was the guy's. The cramping in my abs were hurting so much, I didn't think I could make it halfway down the hallway to the girl's bathroom.

Frick. I hadn't gotten a set of pants to change into. Frick.

But I was feeling too tired to go to the end of the hallway to my room to rummage through my drawers right now.. I decided to wait out the cramp and then go, cause it was really feeling like it was debilitating me right now.

I wearily sat down on the edge of the tub, holding my scalp in my hands, resting my elbows on my knees and leaning all the way forward. My pants still felt uncomfortable and wet and icky, and I prolongingly waited for the cramp to go away, but it seemed like just when it'd be over, another one would just replace it's looming presence all over again. It felt bad, it felt really bad, and I didn't know what.

I don't know how long I stayed, sitting there, bent over into myself, my head in my hands, and aching all over my middle, but I heard a knock on the door coupled with Gazzy's voice.

"Hey, Max, you in there?" I heard him call out worriedly. No. That shouldn't be right. I didn't like to hear his voice like that, cause he should never have to be worried. Everything I did, I did for them, and to make sure they didn't _ever _sound like that.

Taking deep breaths I lifted my head off of my hands and still clutching my stomach I got a hold of myself.

"Yeah Gaz, I'll be down in a second," I called out to him through the door in a strong voice.

"Okay Max, but Angel said that you were hurting, so I'm gonna wait for ya," Gaz called out in an unconvinced voice. I was mad, mad at myself. He shouldn't have to wait or worry. Who the heck sent him up here?

The anger resolved energy flowing back into me. I needed to just clean myself up, the stomach pain I could deal with, but my pants were getting _really_ uncomfortable by now.

Getting up from the edge of the tube, I unbuttoned my jeans. I'd just wipe myself down and clean the bottoms of my jeans up and hope to god it'd stop being so sticky soon.

Slipping off my shoes and socks and kicking them off to the front of me, and I squirmed a bit as I pulled the jeans down to my knees, spreading my legs a little to keep them at my knees as I grabbed a bunch of toilet paper to wipe down the inside of the jeans with. Looking down though, I gasped in sudden fear and surprise.

There was blood. Everywhere.

It was all down my thighs and the inside crotch of my jeans were soaked dark red and wet. I lifted my necked up disbelievingly as I continued to look down. Suddenly I grabbed my waist again as I felt another cramp come over me, and groaned lightly.

Unfortunately, the bathroom was tiled, and sounds just echoed off the walls, and Gazzy had heard it.

"Max? Max?!" he started pounding on the door that he had been waiting patiently against for the past few minutes. His voice reminded me of his presence behind the door, and staring at the inside of my jeans in horror, I gulped. All the blood.. I felt my stomach lurch.. I felt like upchucking everything that was the nothing in my stomach.

"MAX!" he started pounding harder with the lack of response from me. He was completely freaking out. What were they thinking asking him to come up here?

"Gazzy, gaz," I tried to reassure him through the door with my voice, but I didn't know what to say. I was freaking out here too, staring horrifically at my jeans and grossedly assessing the completely bloodied insides of my thighs. I took another gulp, swallowing the bile in the back of my throat, and got to work.

I was Max, I don't freak out. I don't freak out. Taking my trembling hand that was holding the toilet paper, I steadied it and leaned down to try and clean up some of the mess. Some of it was fresh and wet, but some was dried up and crusted thinly against the insides of my thighs, so I couldn't do it properly. And sooner or later, I realized that it wasn't working, cause more kept coming out of me. I gave up, throwing the messed up clump of stained toilet paper away.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, but the trembling didn't rid me.

It wasn't working, there was too much blood, and it just kept coming. Resignedly, and sort of scared, I slid down the edge of the tub that I had been sitting on previously, leaning against the side of the tube now. There was small red spottings on the white tub on the area I had been sitting against previously, and I shuddered once I noticed. It had definitely leaked through my jeans, why was I surprised?

Feeling cold as the cool white tiles of the bathroom floor hit the bottom of my buttocks, I shivered again. My thighs were closed tightly, no longer spread open wide in trying to clean up the mess. My stained jeans were pooled around my ankles, sitting on top of my bare feet, my socks and shoes having haphazardly been kicked away to the side a while ago. I clutched my knees around the insides of my elbows, closed my eyes and lay the side of my head on top. I was curled up into a ball, and my stomach was feeling better that way. I felt something wet trickle down beneath me and felt my stomach lurch again, but the cramp was worse and overpowered any other feeling.

I heard steps stampede the stairs right next to our bathroom, in our little house with thin walls. I shuddered out a sigh, feeling very, very cold, still sitting against the tiles of the bathroom floor leaning against the side of the tub.

"Max, are you okay?" I heard Iggy's deeper voice say through the door. He was banging on the door lightly, but urgently, "What're you doing in there? Max?" he continued, sounding sort of pissed off. I wondered why.

"Max.. Max.. why are you hurting?" I heard Angels small voice ask through the door.

She sounded like she was on the verge of tears, and she probably was. I heard Nudge whimper quietly, sounding like she had slid down the edge of the wall to sit down against it too. I heard deep mutters and Gazzy told Iggy how he had been waiting and what I had said.

Everyone was there, crowding outside of the door.

Except for Fang. I didn't hear Fang.

Lifting my head up off of my knees, I realized I had to stop making them worry. The cramps had receded, and my abdomen was feeling a lot better now. It was just the sticky feeling below that was giving my shudders. I didn't even want to look at the wet dark red mess below me.

"Guys, its okay. I want Iggy," I said authoritatively, and this time, with real energy, "to come in here. The rest of you guys stay outside. Iggy, make sure you close the door as you come in, tight behind you, okay?" I heard Angel protest and could imagine Gazzy frowning, but I had to make sure none of them could see this. Iggy confirmed the request, and I bent over to stand on my knees and lean forward to reach the doorknob.

"I'm gonna unclick the door now, but wait two seconds before you come in, and make sure the kids don't see anything," I said to him. He nodded an affirmative by knocking on the door.

I turned the knob with a click and quickly twisted myself to sit against the wall behind the door instead of against the tub, which was in clear view of the opening in the door. Turning around, I blanched as I saw the small pool of red fluid slid around on the cool white tiles ontop of the area I had been sitting on. I looked away, the sight churning my stomach intestines around in my tummy.

Iggy stepped in through the tight crack he had made, sure to keep steady on the door hinge. I saw his worn and dirtied sneakers take a few steps in, but didn't bring my head up to look at his face. I was still kneeled on the floor behind the door, curled up in a ball, feeling grosser than ever although the cramps had gone away. He closed the door quietly with a shut behind him and turned around to face me.

He kneeled down to my level and slowly brought his fingers forward to run over my face, brushing lightly. I hated that. I hated it. He could feel the small tears on the edge of my tear ducts threatening to fall over.

"Oh, Max.." he said, his face contorting into pity suddenly. He leaned forward awkwardly, as his knees were bent up and down, and mine were in front of me, to embrace my shoulders as two quiet tears slid down my cheeks.

"Max, what's wrong?" He said gently, letting go of me and his face turning serious.

"Ig, it hurts so much.." I murmered out, looking away from him.

"What does, Max?" he asked gently.

"My stomach.. and I'm bleeding," I got out. His face changed into shock, but I slid my eyes to look away again.

"How? Show me. Where?" he weakly demanded of me.

"D-down there," I said pointing down weakly. He couldn't see it, but he knew what I meant from the movement of my hands.

My knees were still together, my thighs closed, but he gently slipped his hands through the empty space between my ankles and delicately slipped my bunched up jeans through the legs of my ankles. Putting the bundle of jeans to the side, he gently brought his soft, experienced fingers through to the middle of my bare knees. He coaxed out some empty space between my shins in order to assess the area inside, between my thighs. His face changed, contorting into serious worry once he was met with the wetness and the residue there and all over. He called out to through the door, "Guys, go back down and eat some breakfast," he said authoritatively to them.

I gasped as he touched me there, somewhere no one else had ever before. He rubbed up and down the bloody mound once or twice and then brought his fingers back, moistened with red fluid. I watched him quietly. He brought his hands back up to face and rubbed the wetness around between his thumb and index and middle fingers.

"But Ig, whats wrong with Max?" I heard Gazzy interject in response. He banged on the door once to emphasize his frustration. I swallowed my gasp as I replied.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I lied, hoping they'd listen to the sound of my voice and go back down.

"Okay.." I heard Gazzy sigh dejectedly, and heard three sets of footsteps go back down the stairs. They were probably pretty hungry by now.

I watched Iggy quietly rub around his fingers a bit more and then bring it up to his face to smell it.

"Max, this is like, dead blood," he said, his eyebrow cocked up in confusion. I was feeling much better now, also in relief that the kids had gone away, but I could still feel fluid trickle out from beneath me.

"Huh? What?" I asked him in confusion. He looked up at me, putting his hand to his side and switching his alternatively kneeled knees before he continued to elaborate.

"Its not like, you know, fresh blood. Its _old_ blood. You're not actually, exactly bleeding, I think." he said, confused. He didn't get it. Neither did I.

"But it keeps coming out, doesn't it?" he asked himself absentmindedly and I saw his face scrunch up in concentration as he thought carefully. He slowly got up and walked over to the sink to wash his fingers off before he came back to me kneeling. I looked up to his face, and there was something serious on there that could only portrayed in maturity. His eyebrows were furrowed in tense concentration.

He didn't seem so childish anymore: his face was changing too. Fang had shown him how to shave weeks ago, but itd been a few days since he'd last done it. Since then, small whispy scruffs had just grown back along his jawline. Smiling, he had said that unlike Fang, he was too lazy to do it everyday.

Calming down at last, I got my gatherings together. I looked up at Iggy with a look that said _So what do we do now? _He couldn't see it, but had noticed that my breathing had gone back to normal. He knew me well enough to know what I was going to say.

"I dunno Max," he said, running one hand through his hair, mussing the greasy red up crazily.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. I opened them with the resolve to be calm and relaxed. Whatever was happening.. whatever was happening, it was weird.. but it didn't seem like I was going to die any second.

"Whats the difference?" I asked quietly.

"Hmm.. what?" Iggy snapped out of his thoughts.

"Whats the difference.. between old blood and new blood?" I repeated again, quietly.

"Oh. Well, I'm not really sure. But regular blood isn't odorous, and its not so thick. I think you're excreting some blood clots too, actually," he replied absentmindedly, obviously still thinking something through in his head.

We stayed there, on the floor for a while longer. I was against the wall, with him kneeling in front of me on the balls of his feet. I was just waiting for him to finish.. whatever it was that he was trying to figuring out.

"Max, I'm going to go down and check on the kids. You _stay_ here," he said dangerously, "so I can get something so that you clean yourself up, and then I'll get you to bed or something. Oh, and you need to have eaten something too," he said, getting up. It was funny how he had avoided mentioning Fang at all.

He absentmindedly muttered something about soaked lemon water and how that may help in cleaning the crust on my thighs. He said that, judging from the looks of things, it'd probably been happening all of last night too.

It was obvious these days, that Iggy didn't trust Fang much anymore. After that stunt he'd pulled for an entire month, moody, distant, cold, to all of us, I couldn't exactly blame him. Iggy definitely was fine with Fang, its just that he didn't want to.. bug him. Its like he was afraid that he'd snap at any second, so was wary of him; if Fang hadn't come up the stairs, he couldn't ask him to.

I sighed, putting my head back onto my knees, my thighs still closed tight against one another. Fang hadn't come up the stairs. I was angry that the younger kids had come up here for the obvious reasons, but if _anyone _at all, it would've been Fang who would check up on me.

I felt a lot better now, and I couldn't feel trickling excreting from my thighs anymore, but I still felt.. gross.. messy.. sick..

Whats been happening these days? I wondered. We don't _get_ sick. That was like, fact. Yet.. Fang, and now me. I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit worried. Maybe they had messed up in making us.. some sort of malfunction. I played around with the prospect of contemplating our lifespan, but decided that I'd rather not. We fought to live, and that was the fact of the matter.. there was no use in contemplating something we knew nothing about, anyway. My thoughts slowly escaped me as I waited for Iggy to get back so that I could try and clean myself up, although I wasn't sure how well that would work.

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A/N:

So as most of you know, this is my first story. I've never even described a kiss in words before, much less ever written anything lime or a lemon before this. So, this story has alot of firsts for me. In fact, its the first story I've _ever_ tried to write.

I don't write stories in general--I've never even done a single one. I write Personal Essays, and I've won 9 Scholastic Gold Key awards in that writing category. (yay!) Additionally, I'm complete crap at Formal Literary Essays. No, Seriously. I'm awful.

In any case, I'm new and I can't help but feel like I messed up by mentioning my birthday in the last A/N. I didn't know my age was that big of a deal, really. I've taken it off. And I hope people don't stop reading because of something like that, but I feel like I've already lost a bunch of readers because of it. And I think I've already mentioned that I'm pretty mature; I go to a special college-preparatory school thats got me accelerated by like four grade levels (and its also got me failing, but whatever). I really don't think that _my _age should interfere with the discretion of my readers. I really hope that you guys haven't stopped reading. =(

Sorry if updates take a little longer these days, but like I said before, I don't have any chapters written in advance anymore. Your reviews would _really_ encourage me, especially at the point where I am right now.

Oh, oh, but I'VE GOT _ONE_ THING TO SAY!!

FAX FAX FAX FAX FAX FAX FAX!! COMING!!!! *party*

oh, and dear god, **do you know how much I hate writing angst?** seriously, I think Ch. 19 was probably the worst piece of writing so far on this entire story (for the exception of chapters 1-4, cause those are just like.. really bad, and amateur). Not only do I hate writing angst, I've figured out that I'm pretty darn awful at it too. Lol. So, anywho, the angst should be completely done with, cause I really hate writing it. I am NOT liking this part of the story. The excessive emotions... (although I'm writing it), its making me blanch. That will definitely come to an end. -.-

I've got an incredible urge to name the next chapter, "The Angst Comes to an End. About Time." :P

FAX FAX FAX COMING SOON!!! =DDDDD I'm excited. =)

and I never thought this story would reach 20 chapters. w00t. See, I never thought I'd write a story this long.

But the thing is, I'd never _tried_ to write a story.

And once I started writing, I realized how slow I tended to write.. and how slow my timespan seemed to travel.

So now, I'm not really surprised I'm up to chapter 20. This story is long, not because of the story, but because of the way I write, I suppose.

Sorry =(

bb.


	21. I Can Help You

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Twenty-One**: I Can Help You.

I saw Iggy come towards the kitchen counter, where I was flipping pancakes for the kids. They were eating them faster than I could make the batter, but I sure as heck was trying to fry faster.. no time for impressive flippy tricks though, sadly. It was an industrial order.

The waffles were bust, by the way. Iggy just gave up on them, and started on pancakes when all of sudden the Gasman had come running down, completely frantic. I took over the pancake-making as Iggy followed him upstairs; Angel and Nudge eventually wandered up too.

The kids had come down a while ago, but I just now saw him approach me out the corner of my eyes, confusion and seriousness etched on his face, his brows furrowed. He was thinking about something hard, mulling things over in his head. Immediately, he opened the fridge and got some lemons out, beginning to grate off the peel expertly with just a knife, and finally cutting it in half. I watched him out of the corner of my eye while I continued to flip pancakes. He squeezed some of the lemon into a small bowl, adding a tiny bit of the lemon peel in too with his long, lithe, pale, fingers.

He reached over my hand to pour some lukewarm water into the bowl from the sink and mix it around with salt quickly and efficiently, like it was second nature. And it _was_, I commended, considering it looked from his face, that he was far, far away, in some distant land, fighting some horrendous monster. Everything he was doing, he was doing absentmindedly, but articulately and perfectly at that. Curiously, I raised an eyebrow at him. What was up with Max upstairs?

Iggy asked me to move a little bit, and he bent down to get a dishcloth off the handle of cabinet below me. He took it and rinsed it before dipping it into the warm lemon-water mixture and rubbing it testily against the side of his wrist.

"Iggy," I snapped suddenly, getting his attention. He looked like he just suddenly woke up from deep thought, "What're you doing?" I asked him strangely.

He turned to face me, his face looking conflicted and confused, his delicate eyebrows furrowed seriously, the shadow and bristles of hair all over his face indicative of his laziness. I frowned at the look on his face. Iggy didn't usually have looks like that plastered on his face—he was the carefree, easy-going guy, and that face didn't suit him. All of a sudden he just suddenly, actually looked his age.

Or, _our_ age, I corrected. Cause normal 13-year-olds shouldn't look like that either. But Iggy.. right now, Iggy looked tense, and stressed. Sort of half goddamned, afraid.

"Iggy, what happened?" I asked him, lowering my voice so that only he could hear. The kids were over the counter, chatting idly around the breakfast table. However, it wasn't as merry or as loud as it should've been, I noted as I realized Max hadn't come down yet.

Iggy looked at me urgently as if measuring me out. He wasn't sure if he could tell me, and I knew it. Things had still been weird between him and I, but apparently he decided that it was the opportune time to overlook that. He waited two seconds before he hunched over a bit to reduce the 2 inch height difference, and huddled in to make sure none of the kids could hear.

"Yo, Max is upstairs, and she's like, _bleeding_," he whispered to me, his face stricken.

"What?" I demanded of him, sort of not believing him.

"Her stomach is hurting her a lot, and I dunno, shes like curled up on the floor and its a mess—everywhere," he stressed, his face getting more and more urgent. The bowl of lemon and salt water was in his hands and they were trembling.

"What? Where is she bleeding? How'd she get herself hurt?" I asked quietly, trying to hide the desperation from my voice as I wondered if my eyes were looking as scared as his were right now.

"Its coming from her crotch, and I dunno, its not like, real blood though," he whispered back, "I mean, it is real blood, its just not, like normal blood. Its weird and thicker and it just keeps coming out of her," he continued.

My eyes widened a fraction of an inch as I realized what was happening. I immediately moved to make my way upstairs to her and explain.

"No, Fang," he grabbed my upper right arm in a death-like vice grip, succeeding in _completely pissing me off_, as I turned my head and silently snarled at him, trying to tug my arm away to no avail, as I waited for him to freaking explain.

"Dude, _I'm blind. _You don't know if she wants you up there—I don't think its real pretty, " he warned me.

The kids' heads turned around as our voices elevated. Irritated at that, I shouted at Angel in my mind to make sure they weren't listening in. It worked, although I regretted it.

There was something else laced within that sentence. He still hadn't forgiven me for being a bitch and distant. He_ still_ hadn't forgiven me. I growled back a response, my eyes tightening in a ridiculous glare that was oh-so beautifully wasted on him. He was trying to protect Max from me.. now tell me that wouldn't piss you off?

"Look, I know you still don't trust me for what I did before, but I need to help Max," I tried to convince him, nearly goddamned pleading. If I hadn't fucked up with Brigid, I wouldn't even know what to do. He might be pissed off of at me for being cold and distant for the past month, but if that hadn't happened, this would've been _so _much worse.

"Iggy, I'm the _only_ one who can help Max. She doesn't know whats going on, let me _go,_" I whispered out dangerously. Sighing helplessly, he let go.

"Fine man. But don't screw up," he whispered out a warning before he let go of my arm, "shes in the boy's bathroom."

When I had reached the bottom of the staircase, I finally opened my mouth.

"Thanks.. and I'm sorry man, I really am. I'm really sorry," I said quietly, meters away from the sink. I knew he would heard me.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Max, open the door," I was woken up from my dazed stupor by the sound of Fang's deep voice, barely muffled by the thin wood of the locked bathroom door. I was startled by his presence behind it.

"Where's Iggy?" I questioned, unmoving from where I was sitting behind the door, quietly listening to his voice.

"He's downstairs with the kids making breakfast," he replied calmly through the door, "I told him to stay down there," he continued.

"Max, open the door," he repeated.

It was the first time in while that he had pointedly, specially, spoken to me. Me, and only me, for no irrelevant reason. And for some dumb strange reason, all of a sudden, I felt tears threatening to spill over.. In anger, in sadness, in fury, in self-pity, in helplessness... in hate. I put my head to my knees and ignored him.

"MAX, LISTEN TO ME," Fang was shouting now.

He was angry, and that definitely was never a frequent occurrence. He would get irritated, yes, but never to the extent of raising his voice. I sniffed.

I was a mess; I was sitting here in a pool of my own blood, and I had crust all over my nether regions, and I felt like throwing up my own bile that had nothing in it. The cramps had gone away.. but I felt awful. Nothing felt right, and everything felt wrong and I still subtly ached all over.

This _sucks_, I realized. There was silence through the door. I knew he was still there. Suddenly he started talking, softly, earnestly. Something I thought I wouldn't hear for a long time.. something I had been waiting for, for nearly over a month.

"Max.. you have to listen to me.. Max, I'm so, so, sorry for the way I've been acting for a while now, I'm _so _sorry, trust me, but you really need help now, and I know you're probably really scared right now, but _I can help you, _please Max, its hurting me to imagine what you look like in there," his voice came out in a slow, unsteady stream, like whispers ontop of a creak in the middle of nowhere.

Every word he said, it felt like it was taking him ages to get out of his throat, like its been building up there for a while now, and his voice was cracking like no tomorrow—something I'd never heard it do before.

"Please Max, I can help you, I know I've been acting like a jerk, but please, _please_, forgive me so that I can help you," the door made a small noise that meant that he was probably leaning on it.

"Max, you're scared, and its okay, its okay to be scared, but let me help you, Max, open this door," he was pleading now, "Max, I know whats happening to you, just please, please open this door so that I can be there for you."

I listened to the sound of his voice through the door, my knees still shut tight and my hands trembling again. I wanted to open the door.. I wanted to open it _so_ badly, and forgive him and talk to him, and be best friends again, and go back to the way it _used to be, _but I couldn't.. I didn't..

"Max,_ please_," he said after a while. I shook my head sadly, tears spilling over.

In a second, my head had jerked up suddenly in surprise; Fang had broken the bolt on the door with a hard tremorous shove.

He walked in and I saw his eyes flicker over the medium-sized bathroom, noticing the small spots of dried dark-brown blood on the edge of the tub I had been sitting on before. His eyes scanned over the light pool of blood sitting directly to the side of it, his eyes searching frantically and quickly, scanning the seemingly empty room for me. His pupils flashed as soon as he closed the door behind him to see my form sitting there on the floor behind it, all crumpled up.

His eyes fell once he saw me. Slowly, he came over and knelt down in front of me, like Iggy had.

Except, he kept his distance. I looked away.. I felt so embarrassed, I felt _so embarrassed_, and I was angry that he'd knocked open the door.

"Max, Max, I'm so, so sorry," he whispered out in a deep, low voice. My elbows tightened around my knees. His voice was deep, and it sounded like he was aching inside, but I didn't care.

"Get out Fang," I said quietly, looking away from him.

"No Max, I'm sorry, but you also need help.." he said desperately, but his face was just as emotionless as ever.

"Fang, get out," I repeated a bit more loudly, I was getting angry now.

"No, Max," he said solidly, sighing, and looking away as well.

"GET OUT THE HELL OUT FANG," I screamed, loud.

I don't think anyone in this flock had ever heard me scream. I don't think I've ever even heard myself scream, cause the high-pitched shriek that had escaped my throat was a new, frightening sound to my ears, and a shocking one at that as well. My eyes closed as my head leaned forward and the words came out of my throat, before I could assess that the scream would probably reach downstairs and echo throughout the halls and through the walls of this old, dry house.

Fang sighed and didn't say a word, looking away, his hand running through his hair compulsively. He didn't move an inch and was still sitting up there in front of me, his knees still in front of him. I heard some stampeding feet carry someone up the stairs and two seconds later the door was pushed open loudly and clamorously and unceremoniously.

"What's going on here?" Iggy said sternly and loudly. His beautiful, sightless, glazed over milky eyes zoned in on Fang immediately and the look he was sending him was murderous. He was speaking a thousand words in his glare, but Fang didn't bother to look up to match it—he could feel it.

Fang didn't look at me. With a tired sigh, he got up, his knees flexing and stood up to turn to Iggy and face him.

"Thanks," he said, taking a small glass bowl from him with something in it.

"You can go now," he dismissed Iggy quite simply.

Iggy seemed prepared to put up a fight, but then he calmed down, his shoulders releasing hard tension. Something extraneous passed between them, but it was lost on me. In any case, Iggy left compliantly, rolling his eyes and looking like he'd have very much liked to take his leave begrudgingly.

Fang turned back to face me, the little bowl still in his hand. He stood there for a second, staring at me for a few minutes before he finally knelt down to me. He played with the thing in the bowl, swishing it around a little bit before taking it out and wringing it harshly within his tight knuckles. It was a soggy dishcloth.

He put one of his hands on my knees gently. I don't think I'd ever actually been touched by him.. like that. Fang and I.. we never hugged eachother. It was one of those weird things that had just.. never happened when we were younger, and so never happened once we got older.

Fang could hold Nudge, he could hold Angel, he could even hug Iggy.. but he's never actually embraced me. Before that night on the bed, when I had gotten into his room through the window.. when I had first helped him—that was the first time I had touched him in such moderate ways as well. It felt like its been a while since the last time I'd had to bandage an arm of his. It felt like it didn't matter back then either—it wouldn't've been a big deal back then, to be in such close proximity. But it was now. Its amazing how things change, I thought absentmindedly. It mattered now.

His hands were light, cautious, wary, strong.. calloused. They were desensitized from training, fighting, lifting.. he was the strongest one out of all us in this flock. I hated to admit it, but it was true. He was a lot stronger than any one of the rest of us. His hands were rough, but he had so much control over them.. they were light, but sure and dominant, unlike Ig's observant and whispy touch, rather strong, sure, and precise. He placed them on my knees and slid them forcefully down the slit I had created with my clutched outer-thighs.

He spread my knees, and I felt a lukewarm trickling pass down the insides of my thighs and the curves of my buttocks. It felt soothing and it felt nice. Turning my head slowly and nearly fearfully, I finally faced him, only to see his bent neck. Fang had his head between my knees, beneath my spread thighs, working and focusing on cleaning me up precisely. He slid the warm dishcloth over and under pressing down softly and rubbing away the dark brown, dried crust around me. He went up and over towards the front and then slid it back down from the front, gently rubbing the crust off of the hair. He didn't go down, down towards the place all the blood was coming from, but cleaned the areas around it, going back and dipping the cloth back into the small dish.

I sat there, letting him clean me, feeling his hands idly run over a place once in a while, feeling the cool wet cloth rub against me, hearing his breathing near me, in the same room where it was him and I. His neck was bent, focusing hard on doing it well, and I could see the hard muscles that connected his neck to his shoulder-blades showing through the side of his stretched, old, worn, cracked t-shirt. It had used to be black, one could tell, but after hundreds of washings, it had just become an unillustrious faded reminder of it.

I shuddered, my eyes closing, as the warm water on me began to slowly and gradually turn cold as a light breeze passed through the empty slips of the bottom of the door.

"Fang, I..I.." I didn't know what I wanted to say. I was cold? I dunno, I wasn't _really. _That my thighs felt clammy beyond all good reason? That _that _wasn't really helping my current situation at all? I didn't want to be here? Well, that was an obvious one, but where else could I go? I was bleeding, and the bathroom was the safest bet because it didn't have any carpeting. That also tended to cause the coldness situation. I gave up on whatever I had wanted to request, realizing that nothing would work for me either way. I was uncomfortable and cold, sitting on the cool wet tiles of the boys' bathroom floor on my bare buttocks, my bloodied jeans sitting to the side of me, and now cold water dripping down the insides of my thighs. There was nothing more I could really ask for. I was feeling altogether horrible, although marginally less icky now that Fang had cleaned me.

"I.. what's wrong with me?" I asked him, ending the question like that. I had decided that I couldn't ask for anything actually reasonable, and I was Maximum Ride—I didn't complain. All there was left was to ask for something absolute, rather than obsolete and potentially dissatisfying. Never have expectations.

Fang finally looked up to me, and his eyes looked beautiful. He.. he was finally, actually, _there,_ now. He was here. And maybe it was only because I was here too. He was finally actually looking at me—something he hadn't done for almost two months now.

The dishcloth was wrung well and left hanging over the edge of the bowl. He had pushed the bowl away to the side. He looked up at me, and for the first time in a long time, I finally felt him be there besides me.

"Max, you got your period," he answered, looking off the side for a bit distractedly. He looked like he was shuffling some thoughts around the front of his mind at the moment. That made me angry. Here I was, asking him an actual question that he had been banging on the door, claiming that he knew the answer to, and he had just bothered to answer absentmindedly, inattentive, and thinking about something else. On top of it all, he had answered with something completely unfathomable—ridiculous that I didn't even know the meaning to.

I wanted to smack him.

He turned his head back from the hamper that he had been facing to meet my eyes again. He saw the danger flash there for a second and realized his mistake. Man, I was pretty easy to piss off, I realized. He was Fang though, so he still ignored it. Any one else would have been scrambling off their seat to rectify any mistake that was made... but he was Fang.

Completely ignoring the look I was giving him, he glanced back at the hamper, getting up from the floor space sitting in front of me and walking over to it. He rummaged around for less than a second and pulled a pair of baggy pajama pants out. I watched him close the hamper and place it on top of the cover. He looked down to the jeans he was wearing and my eyes widened marginally as he moved to begin to unbutton them in front of me.

"Fang, what are you doing?" I asked quickly, my face scrunching up in shock.

Sure I had seen his penis several times before, I had touched it, I had helped him, but here he was _undressing_ in front of me. What was he doing?

Quickly, he slid his jeans off, kicking them off to side and grabbed the baggy sleepwear sitting on top of the hamper. He grabbed it and pulled it down to the floor to slide his legs into, as he pulled off the previous pair of socks he was wearing. He slid the pants up quickly and knotted them before coming back over to me. He wasn't so distracted anymore now that he was done, and his eyes looked directly at me, with purpose, as he walked forward.

But coming back, instead of sitting down in front of me, he sat down next to me, leaning against the same wall that was behind the bathroom door. I turned my head to look at him, only to feel his hands swiftly grab my hips and lug me sluggishly to the side to lift me up over his thigh.

"There you go," he said quietly, almost to himself.

"What? Fang, I'm going to ruin your pajamas, and also—whats happening/?" I asked again, irritation laced within my voice. He was doing things without explaining why, and it wasn't helping what felt like an oncoming headache.

"It doesn't matter... and you're menstruating," he replied eloquently and simply, before he began to chastise me. I grimaced as I sat, turned to the side on his upper right thigh.

"And Max, you've been sitting on the floor for god knows how long, clutching your knees together like no tomorrow," he complained, his left eyebrow twitching strangely as if concluding me entirely incredulous, "and sure, you didn't stain the tiles beneath where you were sitting, but you got a mess all over yourself." His eyebrow continued twitching.

I blushed.. the way he was saying it so bluntly.. it made me feel useless and pathetic. And dumb. Ugh, I was angry now. Who the heck was _he _to be so condescending like that to me?! I was Maximum Ride—and he definitely needed a reminder. Who knew a talkative, condescending Fang was agitating?

Ugh, too bad that this wasn't exactly the most opportune moment to remind him.. I felt completely useless, sitting on right thigh, bleeding onto the pants leg of his right leg.

"And sitting like that won't help your cramps at all," he reprimanded, raising an eyebrow skeptically as he referenced the way I had been sitting before: squeezing my knees and my thighs tight together. "Sit on me now, _comfortably_," he ordered me.

"Fang, what's happening to me?" I asked quietly, for the third time, after soaking in everything he had just said. It was a lot, especially coming from him, but he sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and he sounded like he was bent on helping. I brought my head up and turned it to look at him. His piercing eyes met mine and he sighed, looking away and up.

"You're.. you're menstruating.." he repeated offhandedly. He was obviously thinking about which way to explain it. After a while he continued.

"So.. basically.. the blood, is from your uterus," he continued, looking up at the ceiling as if trying to picture something, "Your uterine lining is shedding, so all the blood is coming out through your.. um, vagina," he finished awkwardly.

His hand snaked around my back to gently hold the side of my hip and balance me on his thigh and make sure I properly stayed on.

"What.. why?" I asked, astounded. "Whats making it shed?" I demanded.

Maybe I had ate the wrong thing or something.. but I couldn't recall eating anything weird, and I couldn't recall getting hurt in the gut for a while. In fact, its been a while since I've actually fought.. I needed to train more these days, I added in an afterthought. After Jeb had left, I'd been way too busy doing chores and such to work on skill or actually train for strength. We'd gotten sort of lazy, I realized with a surprise. Its as if the epiphany hit me suddenly, and I absentmindedly wondered why I hadn't seen it before.

"No, well, its cause you don't have a baby in your tummy," he said, looking down at my stomach and gently bringing his other hand around to place it over it curiously, as if imagining a baby growing in there. He hadn't touched me like this.. in so long—ever, I corrected myself. He had never touched me like this. And it was making me feel weird.. but good. It was soothing, and relaxing.. and it made my stomach feel a lot better.

It was the way he'd hold Angel, or Nudge, or Gazzy.. it was how that he'd _speak_ to them too; he'd never held me like this before, and he never spoke to me like that, and he'd never had the audacity to touch me like this, and I couldn't blame him. I would never have thought about letting him, before. Somehow, all that seemed to be something I was looking at the past in now.

As if just realizing what had just come out of his mouth and what he had just done, he jerked his hand back off like lightening had suddenly struck it. His eyes flashed as he seemed to correct himself, "When woman aren't impregnated, their uterine lining sheds every month or so.. Women menstruate." I blinked once, twice, trying to suck in this info, but it felt like the pieces didn't fit together quite exactly, for some reason.

He could sense the indifference—a feign for a lack of understanding, and tried to elaborate.

"There are like.. two phases, I think. Luteal and.. Folliclar?" he was questioning himself as he sort of rambled. I guess thats what he did when he was embarrassed. Fang would ramble. Interesting.

"Anyway, so basically, its happening all the time. And.. and its completely normal. Its nothing weird, and it happens every month, to everyone."

"Everyone?" I asked, surprised, trying to figure out how this would work with Fang, or if it already happened with him. Maybe thats how he knows so much.

"No.. not everyone, just girls," he corrected himself, slowly.

"Thats.. thats not fair," I commentated softly, frowning, "This hurts."

"Yeah, I know, but it'll go away, its only for a week," he reassured me soothingly.

"A WEEK?!" I screeched in surprise. I would've nearly jumped off of his legs, if he hadn't secured his elbow onto my lap.

"Shh, Max, Iggy is already pissed at me, so don't make any more noise.." he said, giving me a tired glance, "and besides, the kids are gonna hear." Well, he was right about that.

"Besides, this is completely normal anyway." That surprised me. "Every month, your follicle, or fallopian tube, or something, releases an egg, and then your body prepares itself for a baby, but when you aren't impregnated, then it falls down. It has something to do with FSH, some hormone, estrogen producing thing in the pituitary glands."

He was spitting out a bunch of mumbo jumbo that I didn't get, but one word caught my ear.

"Wait, wait up, we lay _eggs_?!" I exclaimed. I didn't want to use the term _I, _cause it was already pissing me off that it was only me that had to deal with this.. every month.. for an _entire _week.. so instead I decided to refer to us.. as avian-human hybrids.

"No, no, they just call it that," he said, grimacing at the thought, "this whole thing is entirely human."

I nodded slowly, deep in thought. I felt embarrassed that I was soaking his pants with my inner bodily-fluids, but he didn't seem to mind, keeping me there and not letting me move.

"So.. this is.. normal.. right?" I asked slowly, trying to gather my bearings.

"Yeah.. its completely normal.. its.. puberty," Fang replied carefully. He sounded guarded in what he was saying and it was making me wonder what he was hiding, or swerving around.

"It.. doesn't happen if you have a baby in you?" I asked him.

"Yeah." he responded slowly after a long moment, minusculey nodding his head once, and turning to look straight ahead of him, at the end of the shower stall. I was guessing he was going back to regular mono and bi-syllable Fang now.

"So, if I got pregnant, this wouldn't happen anymore?" I asked him slowly, turning my head to look at him. His eyes tightened suddenly, staring at the stall, and he moved his jaw a fraction of an inch as his pupils crossed over to look at me.

"No," he affirmed solidly, but there was something strange, dangerous, unsettled, and unspoken sitting in his eyes when he said that. I stared at him carefully, measuring his gaze before I asked my next question.

"Why doesn't it happen to Nudge or Angel?" Afterall, they were females too. Fang looked away again, turning his head to the side. His jaw loosened and his face released some tension as he answered.

"Its.. well.. its a part of puberty, for girls. And puberty doesn't happen, until you're older." Then he went back into his mumbo jumbo.

"Your pituitary gland tells you to make more estrogen or testosterone when you're older. Estrogen is for girls, and testosterone is for boys, when you're a teenager."

"Wait, then whats puberty for boys?" He turned his head back to look at me. His emotionless, expressionless gaze was threatening for a second, but it slowly receded as he succumbed to the resolution and reasoning that had been shuffling around in his head for a while now—I could tell that he'd been thinking hard, about this conversation, since he'd first walked into the door.

"When.. when my penis hardens, thats for sex," he said levelly, his eyes never leaving mine.

Sex.

Sex.

So thats what all that was about. Sex.

"To like have babies?" I asked him incredulously, my eyebrows shooting up high on my forehead, making sure I knew what the definition of 'sex' was. I was absentmindedly aware of how dumb and childlike I sounded, but I ignored the feeling of remorse as I demanded an answer from him. You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat, but I was a bird-kid.

"Yes," he said simply. I waited for him to elaborate, but he obviously had no intention to do so willingly.

"So.. so what is it for?" I asked carefully.

"Its.. its for semen ejaculation," he replied apathetically.

I stared him down, willing him to elaborate, as I refused to ask another tedious question in order to comply with his stubborn attitude. He watched my impatient eyes on him, and sighed before he looked away and answered.

"The semen goes into the vagina, sometimes it joins with an egg, and then a baby starts to grow," he continued, nearly sounding bored. I wasn't bored at all, though. This was definitely news to me.

"Thats it?" I asked dumbly.

"Yeah.." he said, looking off to the side darkly. There was something he wasn't telling me, but I didn't know what it was.

"Oh." I paused for a moment, thinking about it.

"So, it'll happen to Iggy too?"

"Yeah." he replied apathetically. I felt some wetness beneath me as I stained the thighs of Fang's pants.

"Fang?"

"Hm."

"I don't think I can stand this anymore."

"It's okay."

"Really, Fang."

"Its okay."

"No, its not. I feel like complete crap. I feel like crying, and I hate this."

"Its okay.."

Finally, groaning a bit, he maneuvered me in his arms and half lifted my knees. He arched and strained his neck out the door to make sure none of the kids had come up, before he brought his body outside to join it, while supporting me out into the hallway, and half bending down to keep the crook of his elbow behind and against below my buttocks.

Walking out, I felt embarrassed as I noticed that half of the length of one of his legs was stained with my blood.

We went into the closest bedroom, which was Iggy's and Gazzy's, and he lay me down on the closest bed to the door to walk the least amount of distance, sitting me down on his lap to keep me from bloodying anything else.

"Fang, we can't do this, this long" I groaned out tiredly. How the heck were we supposed to stay like this for AN _entire_ week?! And much less every month? Those pains would come every month? This was torture, I _hated_ this.

"I know," he said. He was being Fang again. Irritating, soft-spoken to the bare minimum, just completely, downright, agitating. I was pissed. He was reassuring, but I wanted to punch him. It didn't help that I was incredibly embarrassed right now, with the whole situation.

"Then?!" I asked him angrily, nearly shouting at him. He rolled his eyes at my frustration before replying.

"I'll go into town, and I'll get you some of the things you need. Sanitary napkins, or whatever."

"Oh," I replied.

It was quiet. I felt Fang absentmindedly run his hands over my waist. It was quiet.

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**A/N:**

The ENTIRE second part of this arc revolves around this issue, so **nope**, sorry if you're disappointed, but this is NOT the end of the period stuff. Alot more to come.. you'd be surprised with all the stuff you can do with this issue...

I think you'll be surprised.. or happy.. or something.. cause theres alotta fax coming up, in like.. unreasonable ways ;)

Please read and review, because reviews make this author happy =)

I started another story.._ I think_. Its called Something Gone Wrong and its.. a little bit... _different_. I'm sure you've realized that by now that, I write sort of.. different. I've realized that I'm attracted to writing slightly messed up, sick, things..

Please check it out and tell me what you think so far, and then maybe I'll continue it.

I was sitting in the basement of my friend's apt in the middle of the night (middle of the morning?) typing away on his dumb laptop (he got the new Dell..) while they were all... squirming around me. I _really_ don't get people who go sorta crazy and fidgety and insane when they get high. All it does it lessen your inhibitions--it doesn't _make_ you have to act like a fucking retard.. So yeah, I was just sort of annoyed and bored with them, so then I just sat down ignoring their freaking self-induced drugged stupors and started typing.. So, I'm not giving it much credit considering the circumstances under which I wrote it.. You may doubt my sanity after you read the first chapter that I put up, but I'm doubting it too, which is why I'm not sure if I should continue it.

The difference in Something Gone Wrong is that its _actual_ romance. Let Me Help You.. is just some convoluted form of romance under the guise of Fax, but if I made Something Gone Wrong into an actual story, it'll actually be.. romance. _This _story, on the other hand.. is sorta kinda entirely based around a concept and a "what if" circumstance, which means it sort of dilutes and detracts; it's loosely based around the concept of puberty and adolescence** primarily**. So yeah. I still don't know if I'm going to make that into a story. I don't know if I can actually do romance writings, since I've never tried. Check it out!!

You can see it if you go to my profile. And while you're there, you can also take a poll ! I put up a question about what you guys want to see in Let Me Help You cause the other day a reviewer commented about something.. Check out the new story, take the poll, read and review!

Review your opinions! =) meeeeeeeeeeeee.


	22. Movement

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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**  
Chapter Twenty-Two**: Movement

"Mm... Fang.." I groaned, opening my eyes.

My head was leaning sideways against his chest, and my legs dangled over the side of the mattress, sitting sideways on his lap. His torso was sitting up straight against the headboard, cushioning my head. I leaned up off of him and looked up to his face groggily. He was staring absentmindedly ahead, quiet and pensive, seeming to be deep in thought. His legs were slack, laying on the bed, as I sat on them. He turned his head to look down at me, his hand casually slung around over my lap, his strong forearm resting gently on my thighs.

"Fang, what time is it?" I asked. I immediately began shifting on his thighs and beneath his arm, feeling uncomfortable and wet nevertheless. I could only imagine how uncomfortable it was for him, having someone _wetting_ your lap, slowly but surely_._

"Its 12, Max," he said after a moment, looking down at his watch.

I stopped shuffling around and relaxed a bit, leaning back to rest on his chest again. I felt so, completely, utterly tired. I hadn't eaten anything, but it felt like nothing would agree with me anyway.. which is pretty goddarn surprising, considering I've the appetite of an elephant.

"Fang.. I need to get up," I groaned, complaining.

"Why?" he asked disinterestedly. The monotonous utterance barely made the statement a question, I considered amusedly; he put no emotion behind it.

"I feel disgusting."

"Thats precisely why you shouldn't get up"

It's because _I was _disgusting. I gulped, feeling tears threaten to spill over. I hated this, I hated this so much. Why did it have to be me? I felt gross, I felt horrible, I felt dreadful.. this was so disgusting. And I was leaking and spilling everything onto _his lap. _I felt like crying, so hard.

My shoulders hunched and my hair fell down to cover my face, and at such close proximity, Fang had probably noticed the cycle of thoughts mulling around in my head, despite that my head had lowered away from him. Slowly, ever so slowly, I felt his left hand rise up from where it was laying by his side and reach my back. He rested it right below my shoulder blades and rubbed the area around my spine soothingly, once or twice. He couldn't understand, but it made me feel better.

Slowly, after a while, I felt his hand trail up conspicuously from my back and return my head to his chest. Craning his neck down a bit, he brushed up the hair on my forehead and kissed the side of my temple gently. It wasn't like the first time when I had been half asleep—it wasn't hesitant or fearful, or unsure—it was completely, demandingly, definitively, positive. His lips pressed tightly against my forehead determinedly. He was saying something to me, and I didn't know what it was, although deep inside I knew that I was sure. If anything, I didn't respond.. I didn't want to.

I closed my eyes, feeling ever-so helpless. I wanted to push him away, I wanted to smack him. I wanted to get off him, but I couldn't. I felt too tired, and didn't feel like using up the small amount of energy it felt like I had, and because he was there, helping me.

"You're taking the day off," he said quietly, once he had lifted his head up from my scalp. It wasn't a question and it wasn't a request.. it was a command, and despite its gentle demeanor, it was demanding and threatening and it nearly sent fear course throughout my veins. I hadn't heard his voice in so long.. and _this_ voice.. it was a new one.

I sat there, letting his fingers brush surreptitiously against my forehead in light, gentle strokes. I felt my shoulders shiver at the contact of the feeling of his fingers on my bare skin, gentle and caring, soft and light. I felt my shoulders quake as his touches began to send electric currents rocket through my spine, and I wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp.

I felt like smashing his face in, I felt like cracking his jaw, cracking his neck, breaking his knee -again-, and I felt like doing so many things to him that I couldn't name it. He brought his fingers down around my left shoulder and cupped it, as my right shoulder leaned against his chest. I felt his fingers on me, around me, the hot, warm contact making me feel like a true warm-blooded animal, and I wanted to shrug it away, I wanted to push him away, I felt like getting him off of me. I didn't want him to touch me, and I didn't want to be sitting, bleeding onto his lap, I just wished he'd stop. I wished he would stop, and I felt like crying.

His hands were all over me. The arm that had been resting on my lap, securing me unto him, loosened up as I felt his fingers dance their ways up from my knee all the way to my upper hips. It danced all the way up to the edge of my loose t-shirt, and his thumbs seemed to gently make motions alluding to want to rub against my hipbones. I felt his hands everywhere, all over me, and I felt like throwing up. I wish he would stop, I wish he would just stop.. touching me. I sat there, just sitting on his lap, feeling his soothing heartbeat loosen the tension off of the features on my face, and letting his hands roam up and down and everywhere on my skin and body.. The most personal places, he was violating. I couldn't push him off.. I couldn't push him off.. cause my head was leaning on his chest, cause I was sitting on his lap, letting him help me.

I couldn't push him off and I couldn't risk losing him again.. the past two months were horrible, dreadful, like living a live nightmare, awkward as hell, just plain sad. I couldn't push him off and I needed to accept his help no matter how much I was hating this.

My eyes closed and tears leaked out the sides of my tearducts. He looked down to watch them slowly seep out, drip, and fall down, against the sides of my cheekbones. But he thought it was because I was feeling bad.. It was because of him though.

He went on.

His hands continued to rub all over me, whisping gently here and there, it was like him undertaking his own personal discovery, like he thought I couldn't feel it, like an object, he could cop a feel... like I'd take that.

And I took it.

At some point, I felt desensitized, but soon I gently felt his hands slide up the inside of my knees and sluggishly lift me up and put me to the side, to lay me down straight on the bed where he had been lying. It was warm, after the hour and a half that he had been sitting there, supporting me, as I had dozed. I laid there, in just a t-shirt, my lower regions saturated, but clean and tidy after Fang had cleaned me up before. I was relieved his hands were finally off of me. It had been the most horrendous emotional and mental torture I'd been through since I was outside of the School.

But at least I was clean. At least he seemed to know what he was doing with me. At least he was helping me. At least he was speaking to me. I just.. didn't like that he was _touching_ me, so intimately, so pointedly. But at least I was clean.

What _were_ messy were his pajamas, I'd noticed after he had laid me down and stood up straight to assess me. There was blood all over, it was pretty goddamned disgusting. I sighed, and just stared at them.

I had made a mess of my thighs with blood in an effort to keep from dripping onto the bathroom floor. But now, as Fang made sure, my thighs were pretty clean and tidy, but instead I'd completely saturated his lap with blood, as were his intentions.

Turning around, he slid the bloodied pajamas down to his ankles and stepped off of them, kicking the pile off to the side. I was faced with his back, and the back of his butt, as he walked few steps forward to Iggy's chests of drawers and grabbed the first thing he could find inside. He slipped on a pair of baggy, loose, cargo shorts, that gently fell to a little below his knees, Iggy being naturally taller than him. I saw his penis dangle a bit in front before he finished buttoning and turned around to face me. He saw my eyes begin to droop down again in tiresome manner and quickly slipped out of the room. He came back with shoes and socks on his feet and a harsh fragrance of artificial gunk trailing in through the door with him. I tiredly glanced up to see him throw a black windbreaker on in front of me while he stood at the side of the bed. Staring at me, he kneeled down by the side of the bed as he gently brushed my hair back. I looked up at him tiredly, curling up in ball on my side ontop of the mattress.

"I'll be right back, Max. I'm going out to get some stuff," he promised in a whisper, wary of wakening me.

His eyes were serious as they looked into mine, desperate and eager and worried. He didn't want to go and I knew he'd make good on that promise to come back right away. I nodded tiredly, closing my eyes as I felt sleep overcome me once again. The lack of an appetite was probably something rather detrimental. I heard the door of Iggy and Gazzy's room shut quietly somewhere in the distance. At least his hands weren't on me anymore.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Up.. there we go," Fang muttered absentmindedly as he maneuvered me up and around himself.

There he went again. Speaking to me like I was Angel or Nudge or Gazzy. He.. he was treating me like I was a kid, like someone younger than him, like I was naïve or innocent or someone to protect.

I wasn't. I wasn't, and he needed to stop.

But I didn't have enough energy to scold him.

My eyes were crusted and I groggily looked up at him. His strong, determined hands were supporting my limp elbows on top of him as he moved me around. I felt like a freaking rag doll, all flimsy and worn and tired. My stomach felt so freaking empty, but I didn't feel like I could bear to eat anything.

I closed my eyes again gently as I finally stopped moving—as he finally stopped moving me. I sat there, nearly asleep as I felt him touch around my nether regions again, doing something or another again with both of his hands below me, but not distinctly touching anything in me.

A while later, I opened my eyes again, to bear my surrounding.

Fang was sitting behind me.. beneath me.. and I was laying on top of him, straight up, my head being beside his chin, or below it. My hips leaned against his, and my legs laid directly ontop of his own longer ones. We were facing the same direction on the bed, me lying on top of him. His arms were placed protectively ontop of my hips, securing my onto him.

Straining his neck to the side, I watched his arms on top of my body maneuver something in between my legs and his as he fiddled around. He was now dressed in a pair of jeans, the same ones he had been wearing this morning before he took them off. I felt something press gently against the opening of my crotch, it was delicate and sure, and then I realized that his hand was pushing against it, keeping it there on me.

My shoulder blades resting on his chest, and completely oblivious or uncaring of that certain fact, I arched my back as I raised my arms above my head and yawned. He silently ducked his head to accommodate my moving around. Stretching and straining around my back, I sat up straight on his hips, the feeling of his hand pushed harshly into my vagina sending strange things rocket up my abdomen, but he kept it there, even as I moved. After a short second I realized that this predicament was probably more uncomfortable for him, so then moved back again to rest on his chest, as if it were a mattress.

"Its about 5 now," his voice sounded from behind me. I'd fully woken up now. I nodded quietly, the previously looming sleep quieting me. It didn't help that his presence, so _close_, so near, right behind me, was insanely unnerving. I felt his breath on my neck.. we were that close. For some reason though, I stopped feeling so marginally wet down below.

"Fang, what is that?" I asked, pointing down to where his hands was secured, pushing up into my crotch.

"Its a pad, to catch the flow," he replied simply. He pointed with his free hand, over my shoulder to a large double-bagged plastic tow a little off beside the closed door.

It was a large bag, about three feet tall and completely full to the rim, looking quite square-shaped in all the stuff that was inside it, piled inside neatly and fully.

"I didn't know what to get.. so I bought out half of the aisle," he explained, blushing the slightest bit for a mere moment. I strained my neck to look up to him behind me for a second. He was looking down to the side embarrassedly.

"Eh.. whats wrong?" I asked him, surprised at his reaction.

"Well.. I guess its sort of weird for guys to buy all that stuff.." he said hesitantly and monotonously, shifting his pupils around sheepishly and uncomfortably.

I felt the insane urge inside me to giggle, but held back. His fingers, still holding the pad on me securely, tapped my vagina gently as I saw him recall the experience in his mind. He looked exasperated as he glanced back at the tall bag of stuff he had bought for my sake.

"Well.. I'll be sure to go next time then," I said with a smirk, but it quieted down as I finished the statement. Fang wouldn't show it, but I knew that he was surprised by that statement.. I knew that secretly, inside, he was overjoyed. Maybe I was thanking him, maybe I was showing him how much I missed him, who knows? But it was pretty incredible, if I do say so myself, for me to suddenly, magically, become openminded about going into town like it was a casual thing. I even offered to _go_.. that was saying alot.

Ending the statement however, something else came over me, while elation fell down on Fang. It was quiet in the room as I came to terms with the fact that I'd have to go through this every month for a while now. I suddenly sighed loudly. What a friggin hassle. It was still annoying, and I still hated it, although the pad was really helping. I didn't feel as so goddamned uncomfortable anymore.

I shuffled around a bit on him some more.

"Eh, please Max, its hard enough to keep this on you, without you moving around," he said sort of agitatedly. I quieted. He was probably still pretty peeved at how embarrassed he was at the supermarket, or department store, or wherever it is that he went.

"So, like, I'll just walk around with this for the rest of the time?" I asked him, straining to twist my neck around behind me to throw him a strange look. Switching his hand to keep one securely against my vagina, he picked up a package which seemed to hold more of those pad things on the other side of Iggy's bed that he'd left there.

He picked up and scanned it for a second beside me, his eyes quickly running over and the printed text.

"Well you're supposed to change it every 2 to 4 hours or so.. it really depends on how heavy your flow is," he said.

"Speaking of which, I did some more research on that," he continued, "It gets better. The hurting doesn't last beyond the second day, and it gets less messy and heavy and stuff."

I breathed an audible sigh of relief. It still sucked, but it was nice to know that it didn't have to suck just _so _much all the time it was happening.

I leaned back on his chest as he fiddled around with the plastic package some more, turning it around and reading some more of what was written on it. I looked off to the side, watching his hand turn it around, before I looked away again. I didn't want to think about this.

"I need to buy you briefs.." he said to me irritatedly as he switched hands on my crotch again. I twitched ontop of him, beneath his hands. I didn't reply. I didn't want to think about this, and I didn't want to talk about it, and I just wanted to pretend it wasn't there. He wasn't exactly helping though.

"So you lift this up, and pull it down and stick it on the bottom," he said, pulling one out of the package and showing me. I nodded disinterestedly, barely looking at what he was showing me.

"I'll bring you some tomorrow," he promised. I turned my head, away from him, although that was pretty impossible since he had me laying on top of him. At least his hand wasn't on my waist or anything. I could tell he was uncomfortable at the complete, utter lack of speech or response coming from me. He was probably disturbed by it, having to carry on a conversation by himself. Heaven knows he was having a hard time.. he was pretty awful at it, I noted, smiling a bit to myself.

I sighed. This sucked. He was quiet above me now, his other hand retracted now to rest at his side.

"Where's Iggy?" I asked offhandedly after a while. This _is_ his bed afterall, that we were laying on.

"He's gonna sleep in my room tonight, and I told Gazzy to share with Angel or Nudge," he said in the same quiet tone as I.

"He can sleep in mine.." I silently pointed out after I realized that Fang and I were going to sleep on Iggy's bed together tonight.

It was weird, it was quiet, it was calm, it was pensive, it was tense. There were things lingering in the air above us, so many things lingering around, but things neither of us wanted to touch.

I sighed again. Recently, it felt like that was all that I'd been doing.. just sighing. What else was I to do? Some things.. some things.. you just had to deal with.

And this sucked.

There we go. I sighed again.

I wanted to go to sleep again, just forget it all and everything, but I couldn't. I'd had way beyond my daily dose of recommended sleep, so I was just laying there on Fang's warm, soothing chest, as he kept the pad against me. The outline of his fingers made feelings rocket and squirm up my stomach. He smelled like nothing but himself and his sweat. I looked at his bare arm cut off below his half-sleeved shirt.

Gently, as I brought my fingers up to brush against a protruding vein, as I noticed alot more, many lines that were sticking up rogue through his skin. The lights were closed, and the sky was getting dark, so the room was clouded in a rich dark blue. I saw a faint outline of green on a vein or capillary, whichever, and I brought my hand up to gently brush against it.

The efforts of working out so hard, the efforts of lifting everyday. I wondered why he did it, and what he had to prove or attain. Personally, I myself, hadn't worked out or gone through any rigorous intense training since Jeb had left. I'd been too busy taking care of the flock and the kids and keeping things running, that I couldn't find time out of my day to actually challenge myself beyond teaching Gazzy and Nudge the standard regimen of self-defense, so they could finish and start training themselves. And then I knew I'd have to start with Angel once I was done with them.

My fingers danced down his arms across the torn muscles across his skin, the veins that nearly popped out of his skin, his strong arms. It was amazing.. I felt safe, but so scared. I was lying on him, and I felt so safe.. of the world.. but I felt so scared.. of him. Of his close proximity, of his hands, of his fingers, of the warm, reassuring breaths I could feel fall onto my neck from his nostrils as he exhaled. The prime signal of life.. life beneath me.. a boy underneath me.. a boy on me. I was having a hard time figuring out whether he was on me or beneath me..

I saw him turn his head and watch me underneath, over the the top of my head. Turning the slightest bit and gently running my hands down his arm in curiosity, I felt his eyes watch my fingers in wonder, ontop of his skin. He was watching me with keen eyes, something hidden underneath, but I didn't bother to cock my head up to stare at them and bother to figure out what it was.

Somewhere up above me, I felt his breathing and his heart rate pulse, as he continued to watch me play across and along his strong, unmoving arm. I would've gone all the way up to his shoulder if only his shirt hadn't been in the way. I saw a vein twitch on his arms as my fingers continued to trail down, obsolete to the running of his blood through his capillaries. We laid there on the bed, his hands placed between my legs securely, with his forearms resting over my hips, laying on top of his hard form, and us watching my fingers trail down his arm, quietly, gently, subtly, but surely.

Suddenly, he shifted, sitting up straighter, and no longer slouching back onto the headboard. His body was warm, an open envelope below me, but it was hard all over, and suddenly it started to become very tense.

"Ugh.. Max, stop fidgeting," he groaned out in whisper, a shallow breath. His mouth was right beside my ear, and I tensed up as I heard his deep dark voice right beside me, husky, and low. I nodded numbly, realizing what problem it may cause for him.

We stayed there like that. Unmoving, just laying on top of one another, staring straight ahead to the end of Iggy's bedpost, to the large, wide window facing across from it. Iggy and Gazzy's room undoubtedly had the best and largest windows in the entire house. The sky was dark now, a dark, dark blue, and the light of crescent moon and few stars shown down onto the room, filled with heavy bright shadows, and bathed within the dark blue night.

"Iggy has a nice view," I commented quietly.

"Mhm" Fang agreed, admiring the stars outside of the window with me. _It's just a shame he can't see it_, we both thought.

I felt his hand falter a bit on my crotch. It moved up a bit and let the tip of the white cottonish piece fall back a little bit. Hesitantly and casually, his hand slipped below it.

My heart jumped as I felt his bare finger on my vagina a little bit. I felt his shoulders slouch forward a little bit, causing me to slouch forward as well. I bent forward with him, and we were no longer completely laying down, but with rather him hunching over me with his jaw leaning over my shoulder, he was looking down to my lap.

His finger slipped down a little bit, and hooked onto whatever was there at the front and pulled up a little bit. I gasped a little bit louder. The area below suddenly felt dramatically, frighteningly, empty below. I felt myself leak into the pad a little bit more this time, but his thigh made sure it stayed in place as he wreaked havoc on that area with his single finger.

Still hooked on it, he pulled down and up gently and slowly.

"Max.. how does that feel?" he asked me quietly, his voice still and low, beside my ear.

Somehow I knew if I were to answer, my voice would betray me. He heard the quiet, nearly inaudible whimper that escaped the bottom of my throat, and I could feel him assess it. What was he doing to me?

His finger moved up and down that small one or two millimeter area more surely now, eliciting a whole new thrall of emotion inside me. I felt his finger gently caress the area on top, the lines of his fingerprints... like I could feel every ridge on the padding of his fingers rub against me, right on me. It was making me feel like my vagina was practically sweating on the inside, something was beating roughly inside there. I shuffled around a bit in agitation, in the feeling.. in the feeling that was so, incredible, so insane in consuming me.

He slowed down the movement on me now, gradually leaving it as he picked his hand up and slid the pad out between my thighs and slipped another one new one onto me, between my legs. His hands replaced their prior position on top of the pad, but no longer with a finger slipped inside.

I couldn't honestly say that I missed it's presence, because my breathing was heavy, my heart was pounding fast in me. What had just happened? Fang seemed to be perfectly fine and normal behind me, save for that awkward bulge hitting between my mid-back.

He leaned forward and whispered into my ear.

"That was your clitoris, Max," his low voice drummed silently into my ear. He sounded as if he had just had an adrenaline shot as well, but his breathing seemed to be unaffected.

I tried to catch my breath. I sucked in the info that he had said to me. Okay.

"It.. it felt empty down there, like everything was sweating.. when you did that" I whispered out in response. My eyes were still wide open, wide in fear, apprehension, surprise, of something unknown.

"Your G-spot.." he whispered out and he slipped his hand under and toggled the small area above again. He hooked his finger underneath again and pulled up again like before, stretching my vagina out and pulling it up, straining it against me, but it felt.. I felt the feeling wrack throughout my body, and I felt my butt clench below me in the subtlety he was slowly wracking throughout me.

"Thats.." he said quietly, "..where my penis is supposed to go."

He was referring to the empty space I'd suddenly become more hypersensitive of. When he had pulled the, what he had called, clitoris, up above me, is when I'd first felt it. I could feel his wet mouth near the side of my head, against my ear, close to me. He was close to my ear, and I could practically taste his lips on my skin.

I was wrought with shock, and inwardly gasped at the implications of what he had just said.

His body was still beneath me as he slipped his finger out slowly and tauntingly.

I shuddered instinctively at the feeling, and as the thought overwhelmed me.. So _thats_ where.. how.. _it_.. what.. happens.. What he had said this morning to me in the bathroom never truly hit me on full force, on impact until just this moment.. as he had pointed it out. I was in shock, not just from the information, but also from what he had just done to me.

"Did it feel good?" he asked suddenly, from behind me, sounding unsure and hesitant of my answer. Hesitant, nearly scared, an undertone in his monotonous, seemingly apathetic voice, but apparent to me.

"Yes," I whispered out, barely audible to anyone of the human ears, even if they were as close to me as Fang was right now. But he heard it nevertheless. He decisively, rather than hesitantly, brought his hands away as I could feel the tension on his body visibly ease at the answer I had given. His heartbeat came on faster by nanoseconds, but I noticed it, behind and against my back. He was relieved, and in epic proportions, for some unknown reason. My breathing relaxed, and my breath calmed. My vagina felt much better with a new pad now below me, but still tingled a bit from the memories of what he had just done, his hand still holding itself there against me instinctively and cleanly.

I felt him lean back on the headboard again, but suddenly I felt his presence and his torso flush against my back again. His lips touched the back of my jawline and he kissed it hesitantly at first, but then his lips grew pressure on me as it became hard and sure. The feeling was different, it was new, but I wondered what he was doing. His hand was still below me, keeping the pad to catch my flow. He slipped his face further into my neck and planted another kiss in the center of the side. I instinctively craned my neck up at the movement, my hands automatically going down to clutch the forearms resting on top of my hips that would lead to his fingers pressing the pad against my vagina, and I clutched his forearms laying on top of me with a scared, pulsing, deathlike grip. He moved his face again, meaning to place one on my collarbone again but I spoke before he could get to it,

"Fang.. what're you doing..?" I whispered out horrendously. My fingers were clenched on his forearms frighteningly, my voice sounded horrified, a surprise even to my own ears. He quickly caught the undertones and lifted his head up from the point in which my shoulder met my neck looking up at me questioningly from below. His forearms relaxed on my hips slowly as he looked up, and my fingers loosened the tension on them as well, letting go. I stared straight ahead, my eyes still wide open in shock, refusing to twist my neck up to meet his glance. Recieved with a lack of response, he turned his head again, with the intention of continuing. The kisses were soft and sweet.. subtle, but they made my shoulders convulse and suddenly I pushed my elbow forward and jerked it back into his side before he could get any more along.

"Oof," he gasped, the wind completely knocked out of him, as he fell back onto the headboard of Iggy's bed. I turned around on his hips, the pad sustained beneath me by the position it was on, sitting on top, between his naval area.

My face was angry, I was sending him a tortured glare. He looked up at me confused, One of his eyebrows was knotted and he looked pretty angry too. I couldn't blame him, cause that elbow wasn't particularly polite either, on sweeter terms.

"What are you _doing_?" I asked him again. The whites of my eyes were stark red with veins in all the restless, weary, tired, sleep I had gotten today. I was a menacing sight to look at, looming over him, straddled on his hips. Bare thighs, bare legs, and just a thin light blue cotton t-shirt covering my chest and torso, greasy hair mussed up probably disgustedly. He looked up at me from the bed, where his neck was awkwardly bent to his head, leaning on the headboard.

The anger at the assault on his face dissipated as he assessed my face.

He made to bring his hand up to the side of my neck, where he'd been pressing his lips to, again, but I pushed his hand away as I saw it coming below me.

"Seriously Fang.. what do you _think_ you're doing?" I asked him again, shaking my head confusedly.. hurt.

Suddenly, Fang's face was wiped of any emotion, even from me. It was a blank, clean slate, and he looked at me with level eyes from below me.

He sighed through his nostrils, before he pushed himself up on his palms on the bed to straighten himself out. His head was no longer bent at an awkward angle, but rather now, his whole torso was leaning against the headboard.

Quietly, and looking aside, he lifted me sluggishly by the hips—much to the lack of my cooperation—and maneuvered me again on his knee. I was facing him this time around. This time, he had raised his left knee, and pushed my legs onto either sides of it. He replaced the pad with a new one, and had it propelled against me on the thigh of his bent knee. Gently, he pushed my back down unto him, so that my head was laying nestled on his chest, my face turned to the side as our bodies faced one another. My back and my sore wings were to the ceiling, and his were probably laying pushed onto Iggy's bed, his back leaning on them, probably painfully. He gently nudged me, urging me to lay down on his chest. Hesitantly, I did, but only due to the incredible tiredness that was plaguing me. My legs wrapped around his bent knee comfortably. This was probably the most comfortable position we'd been in all day.

"Sleep, Max," he ordered, exasperation laced throughout every crevice of his voice and throat.

He brought down his hand down between my wings and rubbed softly, coldly, and impersonally, yet still beckoning me to the sleep that he had come calling. The one I thought I wouldn't be able to reach.

As I fell into a slumber, I heard a dark, quiet, low sigh somewhere off in the distance.

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**A/N:**

Agh. No comment. Just. **Agh.**

Read and Review now.. Ugh.

You know that feeling when characters run out of your hands. Like, I dunno. I can't explain it.

Tell me if you liked this chapter.

I hope I did justice.

Thanks for all the feedback on Something Gone Wrong. I posted more up on that story if you guys are interested. This story is going on hiatus for a bit, but you can amuse yourselves with that one while I try to not give up on this one. Agh. I don't really feel inspired anymore and maybe its cause I'm updating faster these days, but my feedback rates are going down too, on this one. =(( Maybe its just that everyones on vacation, like I am soon to be on as well! ;)

**Agh.**

on another entirely unrelated note: it makes me feel the slightest bit guilty when i get these AWESOME long reviews from what sounds like intelligent people, who compliment my writing and my approach and all that good stuff. but the reason i get so guilty is because.. this story.. __ it was primarily meant to just be sorta perverted and then, end. once i _actually_ started writing, i couldn't help but extend it into.. feelings.. and plot substance.. and thats how this turned out.. yet, there are still really perverted elements in here.. so yeah.. _ i hope i dont get pinned and blamed for being quite rather nasty, cause like.. thats sort of what i meant to do.. it was sort of like you know, me asking myself "can i really do this?" so thats why.. er, it was meant to be perverted and stuff. i guess it didn't quite turn out that way completely, but it still is.. which is why i feel guilty when people actually compliment the writing as if its good.. i had no intention to make it, actually _good_.. like, real writing. this is not something i'd enter into a writing comp or anything. everything i did at the beginning, was with the full complete intention to make this story.. sorta trashy.. hm.. okay. just saying. don't hate if this gets a bit too trashy for your own good.. its sort of what i meant to do, but now i've got all these intelligent readers who are reading for substance. i feel like im misleading everyone on, cause this story, was just truly, really,_ meant _to be plain ol' trashy. Ah well..

On that note, I dunno about making Something Gone Wrong M-rated. I dunno. I'll see how that goes for now, and if I get enough people asking me to, then I'll probably do it. My intentions for that story do not couple with the ones I had when I first began writing this one. That new story, however, is also one where I'm challenging myself, but I asked myself "can i really do this and not make it completely gross?" whereas I _foresaw_ Let Me Help You to be gross from the start. So yeah. We'll see. Sorry if none of the above makes any real sense to you, if you havent read it.

And to what I said above about those long, praising reviews.. Don't get me wrong; I love long reviews.. theyre my favorite kind, but don't worry, cause any and all feedback is great and makes me feel_ inspired_ and appreciated.. God, I'm so tired..

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_**I'm on hiatus..**  
_

**So, I hope you read and review. And hopefully, I'll get back quickly.**

**I'm not even sure if this hiatus will work though. The last time I had decided to stop writing this story, your reviews bombarded my email inbox enough for me to get annoyed and come back.. in just a single day. You guys are really awesome and all, but seriously, lol?  
**


	23. Sexist Pig

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Twenty-Three**: What is a Pig..?

I went into the kitchen from the staircase, immediately reaching up and getting out some flour and some other ingredients out for Iggy once I'd reached the counter—I'd just woken him up and he was now in the bathroom washing up. He'd looked utterly tired, as if not having gotten enough sleep last night, which was curious, I noted, considering Gazzy was up and energized. I mentally reminded myself to check up on everyone's state of slumber before I, myself, went to bed tonight.

Usually, when they'd stay up on plans for a bomb, Gazzy would be dead tired by morning whereas Iggy would be thrilled to the extent of hyper. Today was neither/or circumstance.

"Max?" I heard Gazzy's high, curious voice sound from behind me. He and Nudge were patiently sitting at the table with their stomaches growling obnoxiously from behind me.

"Yeah, hun?" I asked, faced around, trying to get some pans out from a high cupboard.

"You're walkin' funny," he deadpanned.

A pan immediately fell splat on my head. Oh, the frickin' irony.

Angel daintily and gracefully swum into the room as well, taking a serene seat besides Nudge.

"Yeah, like a duck," she chirped in conversationally.

Mentally, I growled. I guess any other person would've blushed in embarrassment, but whatever. It was still pissing me off how only _I_ had to go through with this shit monthly.

If there was a god out there, _screw_ him. _The_ _freaking sexist_ _pig._

A heavy feeling behind me signaled Fang's entrance, which was a glance thrown at the back of my head. He stayed quiet, but turning my head a bit, I could see him stifling a quiet chuckle from the corner of his mouth.. He knew better though, than to say anything.

"But you only do it, like sometimes, though," Nudge voiced her innocence.. Mentally, I sighed. I'd ignore this until it went away. At Nudge's comment, I saw a bigger grin, suppressed, grace Fang's stupid, gorgeous face.

Wait.. since when was his face gorgeous? _Since a while ago_, a little voice inside of me noted. Since you _actually_ noticed, another one quipped a long with it.

Ugh, the hormones. I pushed the thoughts, and the annoying little voices, outside of my head, and busied myself with ignoring the kids. At least Fang knew to shut up, and keep his mouth shut.

But sometimes, once in a while, he'd send me those little looks that'd remind me that he remembered how he had made me feel the first time I'd gotten my period.. Together on Iggy's bed, when he'd slipped his finger down.. and rubbed up and down.. the exhilarating feeling, the intense atmosphere, his rough voice sinking into my ear in the middle of all that.. ecstasy. The library books said that was what it had been—ecstasy.

And then I'd pushed him away.

Like I'd wanted to do the entire night.

I shook those thoughts out of my head too. Man, there was so much I didn't _want _to think about these days. And here I thought I was always the confrontational type of person..

"At least she flies better now these days," I heard a deep voice ring out behind me after a moment.

I gave Fang too much credit. Heck knows he knows how and when to keep quiet, my freaking arse.

Correction: He knows exactly when and how to keep quiet—aka all the time, e.g. whenever he wants to—for the convenient exception of opportunistic opportunities in which it is delightfully plausible to _irritate_ me.

I turned around purposefully, after having kept quiet throughout the entire discussion centering around and concerning me, (which might I add, is not an easy thing to keep quiet in the circumstance of), to glare at him pointedly.

I threw him an awful, dirty look at what he'd said, before turning right back around to face the counter. I was trying to busy myself in the kitchen, even though I didn't have anything to do here, having gotten Iggy's things down.. but I really didn't want to go back to that table. It was a unanimous decision to _not_ tell the kids about sex and puberty until we had to and it came up.

Okay. So, we hadn't really figured out the logistics of it.. but heaven _knows_ we weren't going to talk about it anytime soon.. as in.. Fang and I.. discussing.. these things.. with eachother.. anytime.. soon.. to figure out how to tell the kids..

For now.. it was just.. unanimously decided _to keep quiet_. Which was hard to do, mind you, especially when they kept telling me I waddle like a duck every month. Grah.

Its not like they _needed_ to know about periods, or erections, or how a baby got into a mommy's tummy.. they didn't, I tried to adamantly convince myself.

I'd gone back to the store and returned the shitload of pads and tampons and stuff, opting to exchange all that for a hefty amount of a lot of the more cheaper stuff, rather than half of the entire feminine hygiene aisle.. that Fang had conveniently bought out for me. Trust me, when I say that that exchange was awkward, but I didn't really care. Unfortunately for me though, the cheapest things were large, plus-size maxi-pads—way too large for me. It felt like what I'd imagine a disposable diaper to feel like, not that we'd ever used them. Back when Angel needed them, we would just take turns washing and reusing cloths pieces with her.

Fang smirked at the glare I threw him. And somehow, I found a large blush gracing my face as I turned back, and trust me, the blush was irritating, especially since I didn't quite know why Fang's ever-so-fluctuating facial expressions had that effect on me these days.

That, too, I pushed out of my mind, but Fang was still sitting there, just waiting to elicit a reaction out of me.

Okay, so my previously awful flying had grown positively stellar once I'd acquired the proper undergarments. Who knew that the reason I sucked at flying so considerably much, in comparison to the rest of the flock, was just 'cause of my boobs?

Well, needless to say, it was much easier to fly without weights on your chest dragging you down in the form of two separate, unstable entities. My wings could support me steadily now, since they were being held and supported right against my chest, instead of swinging around haphazardly. Wearing a bra, I'd figured after a while, was _a lot_ more convenient in moving around and such.. it was stable, and there wasn't so much.. jiggling, anymore.

My mind flashed back to months ago—it seemed like ages, that we'd been in the forest, and we'd had to deal with those erections of Fangs, when we didn't know what they were. At some point he'd asked me to sit down and show him my breasts—he'd made me squeeze and pinch them and let them fall against eachother. So, he'd certainly liked the jiggling..

And now he was subtly, secretly, conspicuously bringing to attention that I wore a bra now.

Great. Way to be mature, Fang.

At least Gazzy's OCD-like behavior was quenched with the lack of those circle-dots on my chest, on my shirts. Altogether, I'd learned a lot. Things, I'd figured out, we should've known a long time ago.

It was okay though.. That day afterwards the night Fang had held me on Iggy's bed, I'd gone down to town by myself for the first time in ages. I'd actually entered a store. By myself, I'd bought underwear, figured out what the bare essentials were, tried some stuff on, gone down to the library to do some research myself.

I'd come back, and here we were. This was probably the third period I've gotten since, and I still found myself soiling my underwear in the mornings first, since I didn't know when they'd come. True to Fang's word though—monthly—as the library computers said too as well.

Fang and I.. hadn't talked much about that since afterwards. From what I'd inferred, Fang had completely freaked out after he had woken up that morning afterwards and found me missing. (Note to self: tell the others when I'm planning on going out). However, I'd come back with a considerably sized bag of bare essentials that I'd immediately stuffed into my room, also dragging the enormous bag of sanitary period things he'd bought for me in there. After I'd gotten my stuff together, I'd gone back and returned all the expensive things he'd bought for cheaper ones, and we hadn't talked much about it since. I sort of really didn't want to.

I was Maximum Ride. I took things in stride.. and certainly, I could take care of myself.

I _certainly_ didn't want to talk any abnormal weaknesses. So what if I was a girl? That shouldn't change anything concerning who I was—Max—leader of this flock. Just cause they were guys.. didn't make them any better. Sexism.. was intolerable.

Afterall, those small moments of weakness he was there to share with me, were only there cause we were missing vital pieces of information. Jeez, screw Jeb. You woulda thunk he'd have kindly informed us on matters like _bleeding monthly_ before completely freaking ditching us.

Speaking of shifty matters and people, I threw the table of my kids a shifty glance as the thought crossed my mind of telling _them. _I _so_ did not want to go through explaining these things to 5, 7, and 10 year old.. as well my other _oh-_so completely mature 13-year-old, Iggy. With Nudge, it'd probably wise to do so soon, though I wasn't sure how she'd react. I was hoping to god I'd have more time till I had to with her. Iggy, I wasn't yet too sure about. Sure, he was younger than Fang and all, so it still might take a while.. I was desperately hoping so. I was running and hoping on my luck on this.

Looking back on it, I applaud Fang for how he went through handling me.. must've been awkward, I thought wryly, still thinking of the oblivious, innocent little kids sitting behind me.

"Huh, Max?" Fang said after a while, his eyes fixated on my back, a cruel smirk sliding onto his face. He was still subtly referencing my bra, and my boobs, and how my flying had spontaneously, suddenly improved, the oblivious little kids still sitting around him. My previous blush had wiped off in the midst of my recent thoughts, as I angrily turned around to hurriedly throw him another threatening, warning, dirty glare before showing him my back again.

Facing the counter again, I rolled my eyes. He was so freaking _sexist_.

I heard Iggy waltz into the room and breathed a silent breath of relief. Maybe now we could get some food into their mouths and get them to shut up, consequently stop talking.. about me.. hopefully..

"Hey, Iggy, I've got all the food set out for ya here," I quickly ushered him in. I heard Fang snickering in the distance at my adamant and desperate change of subject. I pointedly ignored his silent jestering and threw Iggy a smile, seemingly wasted on him, but soothing for my own nerves.

"G'morning Iggy!" Angel greeted sweetly.

Iggy yawned loudly, looking a little bit more awake before, and mumbled a response. It was the first time in ages that Gazzy had actually gotten up before him, therefore, breakfast was late.

"So what were you guys talking about," Iggy asked casually as he lazed around to the counter, immediately getting to work and pouring some stuff that he'd whipped in second, into a frying pan.

"Nothing." I replied shortly, quickly shoving myself against the counter hard, before whipping around to open the fridge and lean into it, pretending to occupy myself and peruse through some things.

I saw Fang suppress another smile, his eyes holding a secret mischievous twinkle, and felt that interesting urge to kill him come over me all over again. Still leaning into the fridge, and giving them my back, my fist tightened around the fridge door handle, imagining it to be Fang's neck. He'd certainly grown some audacity..

"Max is waddling like a duck," Nudge answered him, looking over my adamant statement. She was about to go on, probably onto some obscure tangent that would lead to something completely unrelated.

For the first time, in like, _ever_, I actually wanted her to ramble onto something completely random, but just my luck that Gazzy had decided to take advantage of _this_ particular moment on _this_ particular day to cut her off.

"Yeah, again," he quipped. Mentally, I groaned.

Iggy turned around, leaving a few pans to sizzle on top of the stove again. I got up from inside the fridge and shut it behind me, turning to face them, Iggy still standing a few feet away from me along the counter. I looked Gazzy in the eye determinedly.

"You're imagining it," I replied roughly to him. My word goes.

"Really? I don't think so,"Angel said, with a troubled look on her face, as if she was really trying to figure out whether or not she was simply deluding herself into thinking so. I groaned again in my head. Fang's smirk grew, despite the fact that he was looking away, seeming as if he were disinterested in the conversation. Just staring at his feignedly disinterested glance coupled with that mockingly faked hidden smirk made me want to _kill_ something.

Iggy turned around to face me, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Really?" he asked me.

"No," I replied smoothly.

"Yes!" Gazzy exclaimed in answer. I turned to Gazzy and looked him in the eye again.

"_No,_" I repeated. Faced with the threatening look on my face, he subtly cringed, staring at me scaredly, a spoon standing upright in his hand on the table.

"Er.. no?" he repeated again, looking away from the fierce look on my face to respond to Iggy, repeating me.

Since when had these kids gotten so much harder to control? I actually had to make the effort now.

Agh, Nevertheless, Iggy didn't fall for it. Oh, great. He had that concerned look on his face, The one I'd only seen three times tops in my life. (You should know—they've all been within the course of this story).

With his face still turned in my direction, he quickly flipped the things on the four pans up and down, shaking the pans consecutively, before going back and picking them up and placing them on plates. He then went back and poured some more of the omelet souffle mixture onto the pans, sliding the filled plates down the counter in the center of the kitchen. Leaving the rest to fry, he took his lithe hands off the stove and went over to me.

I followed his form with my exasperated eyes.

"Lemme see," he clarified. _You can't _see, I would've reminded him wryly, but he'd already bent his knees slightly to floor to get closer to my torso. I had moved over from the fridge to lean my behind against the counter, now warily watching Iggy come closer to me.

He brought his hands up from kneeling over on the floor, closer to me, placing them on my hips. I automatically felt cold. Fang had held me the same way before, on the bed, but Iggy's hands were larger, more precise. There were layers of clothes between us, jeans, and underwear, but I could still feel the differences. They were more familiar, bony, skin stretched tight against his pale, pale, transparent skin. Larger, calloused from use, and holding an air of experience, from the vast amount of knowledge attained from all the things they've touched and seen. They were gentle, and I felt them from the floor. I felt Iggy's hands fall to below my buttocks, raised up above his head, trailing around my thighs.

Gently, he urged me to turn around so that my front faced the counter instead, leaning on it. I barely noticed him as he expertly coaxed me to turn. Somehow, I found my hands flat on top of the side of the kitchen counter, my behind face to face with the front of his head, suddenly hypersensitive of his hands on me, on my behind.

Slowly, his hands felt around me, slowly reaching up the joint where my pelvis met my legs, and I slowly felt his presence looming behind me. He stood up, as he continued observing my legs with his hands, keeping them wandering even as he brought his body up to engulf me, pushing and leaning against the counter with me.

Suddenly, I felt his hands actually directly, pointedly, on me now. Even through the loose, baggy, ill fitting jeans, I felt his hands directly ontop of my butt for the first time. He was slowly and gently lifting his fingers and his experienced knuckles up and down mere millimeters on my jeans, wracking amazing things through me even as he did so. It wasn't exactly kneading, I'd say, considering how soft and gentle and observant he was being about it.. but it was _something_.

His hands had finally reached up to that area, and it was focusing just there.. they were big, and large, engulfing the cheeks of my posterior completely, his knuckles flexing the slightest bit every time, yet still making me feel strange inside. Suddenly, he brought one of his hands up and off of me, and for some reason, somewhere inside me, I breathed a tumultuous breath of.. insane _relief. _I hadn't even been aware of how tense I'd been. It'd been feeling like he'd had complete, utter, total control over my entire body with his hands gripping me from behind. He.. had just felt so _large_ and in control, from behind me.

One of his hands lifted up, while the other had fell down to rub up and down along the curves that led up to the cushiony area. It stayed on the edge area, continuing to rub up and down lithely along the curve to my left cheek, as I felt the other suddenly reappear and rub down the thin line that seperated the two. I peripherally saw it run down the side to meet the joint where it met between my legs and gasped before he could fully go down and do so.

"Iggy.. get your hands off me," I said in a serious, quiet, lethal voice. There was danger coming from all sides of it, though I'm sure he couldn't tell the root of it. I was sure he was confused, and trying to figure out what had gotten me so angry. I wasn't really sure whether or not I knew the root of its cause myself.. All I knew is that I _didn't _like his hands on me, in that way.

The kids were munching happily on what Iggy had slid towards them quickly, but I noticed both Nudge and Angel and Fang had noticed the situation. Fang had had his lingering eye on us the whole time, but Angel just suddenly looked up and looked.. confused. Nudge looked perplexed and curious, but Gazzy was blissfully munching away on his plate of super-duper egg omelet.

"Sorry, Max," Iggy apologized lightly. He sounded completely normal, calm, like he usually was.

God, what was wrong with me? Looking down I surprisedly noticed that my fists had clenched tightly on top of the counter-top. My face was red and my voice was receding anger. Yet.. I didn't know why. I felt an oncoming headache grace the features of my face, even at 9 in the morning.. I had to figure all this stuff out, cause it was giving me a headache.. cause I didn't know what I was hating, and I needed to find out what was making me instinctively react like this. I didn't like not knowing my responses, and I didn't like not feeling in control of myself.

It was silent for a moment, and then I heard the telltale noises of the clatter of forks and spoons resuming behind me, at the kitchen table. It was still silent in the telltale way over at the kitchen. I was still leaning over the kitchen counter. Iggy was still behind me, close to me, but now his hands were just hovering slightly over the side of my hips, hesitant and wary, but prolonging.

I was so confused. I was _so _confused. Why had I gotten _so_ angry? Yes, that was _quite _angry.

"Sorry," I let out silently behind me.

Everything seemed to fall into perspective once his hands were on me.. but once they got off, I started wondering why I'd gotten so touchy and sensitive. Seriously, geez, what was wrong with me?

I could practically feel Iggy exchange confused looks with himself, behind me.

"Okay then.. wait," he was still behind me, and suddenly I felt his hands on my lower back again.

Afterall, he'd only been trying to help me, right? Figure out what was wrong? It was just that I _knew_ why I was waddling like a duck and walking weirdly—cause my pads were too big—and whatever he was doing now was pretty pointless unless I wanted to explain to him _why _I had to wear pads—something I was definitely not in the mood to do.

And suddenly I felt his hands on me again. I told myself to relax.. to calm down. That was, until, I felt his hands slip past, _in_to the waist of my pants. The back of my pants, slipping awkwardly and fully into the skin against my posterior, his fingers tight against the inside of my plain cotton green fruit-of-the-loom underwear, his tight fingers _so close, _as they rubbed against the bare skin of my behind.. thats all I could feel.

I immediately wanted to turn around and put him into a chokehold or something of that sort, but he continued, and I gulped, feeling his bare hands on my buttocks. I waited.. to see where this feeling was going..

It was a strange feeling, and I wanted to know why I hated it, when his hands were feeling delightfully suave on my buttocks anyway, especially with the contrast against the cramps I'd been having in my upper abdomen that day.

I wanted to tell him to stop, and I had been just about to, but instead let him continue. To see where this was going. To see why I was feeling this way—contrasting feelings, contrasting emotions. I.. I wanted to feel more. I _wanted_ him to keep doing it.

"What're you doing, Iggy?" Fang's voice suddenly rumbled out from the table. It was dark, and threatening, his voice looming, like his eyes.

Twisting my head suddenly and removing my mind from the daze, I saw Iggy's silent face look thoughtful, confused.. even a bit.. rambunctious. He slowly slipped his hands out of the tightness of my underwear pushing against my skin and lifted them out. He seemed to assess Fang's question thoughfully, before responding to me.

"I dunno, you waddle like a duck," he stated to me, with a confused, albeit evil grin on his face.

This would've been an opportune moment to do one of those -headdesk- things. Iggy was so normal.. he was so, Iggy.

Blinking a few times slowly, trying to get my slightly spinning head in order, I slowly turned myself around, my hands still gripping the countertop as if to support me. Iggy got back to work on some more pancakes and everyone was eating normally.. like usual. Like, like that whole thrilling scene had gone unnoticed.. for the exception of.. Fang.

I saw him still looking up at me, from his dark eyes sitting right below his eyebrows, sitting at the table on one of the seats directly facing the kitchen counter where it had all happened off to the side. He exchanged a meaningful glance at me, but I didn't know how to respond. Iggy was now busy doing some dishes over the sink, while the kids were still eating.. but Fang was still exchanging a looming look with me.. one that I didn't quite know the meaning to. I stared back at him rushedly, my face still confused, and probably flustered and red, though I didn't quite know why.

Everything was.. normal around us.. It was just me, who was feeling.. distinctly abnormal.

Those looming eyes turned apathetic, as Fang looked away from me to stare at Iggy. He seemed to be careful, and thoughtful, as he stared at him, his mind filled with things I hadn't the effort to decipher at the moment.

"Nudge, Iggy stuck his hand into Max's underwear," Gazzy whispered in shock to her.

I froze. So did Fang. Iggy seemed to have been ignoring them, cause he continued doing the dishes normally. He would've said something adverse or contrary had he heard it. Angel, Nudge, and Fang continued eating normally, Fang stiffer than usual.

Our heads turned slowly to watch their silent, secret ordeal. I waited tensely for her answer.

"So? Maxs' stuck her hand in your underwear before," Nudge replied, laughing a bit at the end. She seemed to be brushing Gazzy off like swatting off a fly. Gazzy could sure be annoying sometimes. My heart seemed to have skipped a beat within that moment. To tell the truth, and in all honesty, I was curious about how she'd react to the statement. In some sense, the feeling of elation died with her response. I saw Fang visibly relax, and loosen his shoulders, but he himself, looked a bit confused, as if he was trying to figure something out in his head, or judge it.

She brushed it off like nothing.. but it felt like to me, like Gazzy's response, like something scandalous going on.. was what it truly felt like. Like, something wrong, a new feeling, or something new.

"Well, she's never done it for Iggy or Fang before or anything.." Gazzy trailed off embarrassedly, his face red—Nudge was making fun of him for still being given baths from me.

"How do you know? She does it for you and Angel, so she must've done it for Iggy and Fang before, like how she used to do it to me," she said, still jestering him. Gazzy looked utterly humiliated by his logic and his state of age.

"You guys are silly. Max wasn't always big, if Iggy and Fang were little, she must' been little too," Angel said thoughtfully, moving a fork around clumsily. I had finally gotten my gatherings together and I walked down to the kitchen table, finally. Fang was still watching me with keen eyes.

"No, you _all _are silly. I've _always _been big, I've always been Max, so I've always been the leader," I reassured them confidently with a smile, giving Nudge's back a good, appreciative rub. Though, inside, I was still a bit queasy, uncertain.

"Now, lets forget this and eat some good breakfast," I smiled, looking around the table authoritatively. Iggy had come over to join us, sitting in the last remaining empty seat next to me, somehow making me feel unreasonably uncomfortable.

No, I'd never bathed Fang or Iggy, or taken care of them they way we do with the younger kids. Jeb was there to do that for us, or the whitecoats were there to neglect to do that.

I was pretty darn sure that the way I felt in response to things like that had nothing to do with the way Gazzy or Angel felt when I touched them or bathed them. Damn hormones. The internet made it sound like that was the excuse to all of my immediate worries at the moment. That sounded about right.

There was a reason why society, even below our little E-shaped house, had gender segregation; it wasn't just our house, the way Jeb had organized the bathrooms and bedrooms. There was a reason you were allowed to do certain things with kids, rather than adults once you got to a certain age.. I mean, look at Micheal Jackson.

I thoughtfully finished breakfast, feeling like I was ready to change my stupid, dumb, big pad.

"Angel, you're overdue for a bath," I informed her as I got up from the table, taking my plate over to put into the sink.

"Sure, Max," she replied cheerfully, throwing me another heart-melting smile. You couldn't help but feel like chocolate left out in the sun for too long, when you were faced with radiance like that. I smiled back.

Fang had quietly stepped away, and I thought I saw him walking back upstairs, probably to his room. Nudge had gone over to lounge on top of a long couch on her stomach, reading a magazine that Fang had gotten for her. Iggy too, had gone upstairs, but Gazzy was still at the table eating. Considering he hadn't rushed up with Iggy, it was probably safe to say they weren't planning on working on any bombs right now, so he'd probably just go down to the basement to play with some of the toy cars once he was done. Angel had sweetly flown up to the upstairs to start on her bath until I could get up there and help her, to make sure she scrubbed well.

I looked around me. It was a new day. It was a good day.. on certain standards.

Afterall.. Fang was home, and he didn't look like had plans to be leaving anytime soon. I couldn't smell any explosives at the moment. The kids were being obedient. What more could I ask for?

The past 4 months had held some _horrible_ days. This was one of them—the whole period affair—but I could deal with it. I could deal with it. In comparison to some of the awful shit thats been going on these past few months.. the nerve-wracking, mind-stressing, worried blunder of a blur thats been my life these past few months.. the worry, the stress, the awkward tension.. this was _good_ in comparison.

For now, all I needed to know was that my full flock was here and ready with me, even if things were unstable in my mind, and even if I didn't know what the weird feelings were that were going through me were.. even if I was feeling weird things, when touched in certain places, I could figure everything out eventually—I was Maximum Ride.

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I walked upstairs and I heard voices coming from Fang's room. That was the key word: voices, as in, the plural.

Fang barely ever let anyone into his room. I was pretty sure I was the first one to check it out besides Jeb, and Angel from when since she was a baby, when I had broken his window the first night he'd gotten a stiff erection.

And here was.. Iggy? It sure sounded like Iggy, more or less than anyone else. I peeked closer, and saw that the door was left ajar. Listening in closer, I was curious.

In fact, I'd been curious when Fang had said that he'd let Iggy sleep in his room that night that we'd been in his and Gazzy's.. but I'd been too preoccupied to think it over at that time.

Ah well.. I guess, since Iggy was blind and all, Fang should've cared a little bit less about letting him in. He probably wouldn't've even been able to navigate around it anyway. And at that point, dire circumstances were called for dire measures. I stood to the side to see what was so important that they were discussing something, the two oldest next to I, without me.

"What is she doing now?" I heard Fang's voice rumble out deeply from within. From the creaking noise, it sounded like he was sitting on his bed.

"She's giving Angel a bath," Iggy said. Oh, so they were talking about me. Typical. Wait, what?

"Oh." he replied quietly.

_Why_ were they talking about me _without me there_?! I was just about ready to barge in and ask them what they freaking wanted to discuss about me, that required my presence to be gone, but the still quiet moment in the room caught me off guard.

I watched Iggy bob his head up and down slowly in an affirmative nod, from the angle I was standing at, but Fang was sitting on the bed, lost to my eyes, as he was covered by the angle of the wooden door.

"So," I heard Fang start quietly after a while, "what was goin' on down there?"

The question startled me. The way Fang was asking Iggy it, didn't seem like an actual question.. more like, a prompt. This conversation, definitely, was not a typical one I'd heard before, at least. Nevertheless, I was intrigued, despite the fact I knew Angel must be shriveling up in her tub by now.

"I wanted to check out what Nudge was saying," Iggy said. I thought it'd be the end of it, satisfied, but he continued.

"--but dude, her butt.. was soft," he said, astounded, "I couldn't really stop,"

Uh. _I _was astounded. My mouth was open in shock. How lecherous.

"Yeah.. she's got, like.. curves now," I heard Fang quietly state.

Wait, _what_? Well.. yeah.. I guessed, but I didn't think he'd put any significance in it.. or even noticed to the extent of caring, for that matter.

"Dude, how do you like, live with that?" Iggy asked in astonishment. I don't think that question was meant for an answer, partially probably because I wasn't really sure what point he was trying to make in asking it. It was rhetorical. He answered himself.

"It was like.. mad nice," he concluded, sounding like he had finally just about taken a breath of air at the end.

"She's also got breasts now too," Fang said interestedly. I gulped in apprehension. Sort of in confusion.. I wasn't quite sure. All I knew.. was that they were talking about me.. _about_ me.

"_Actual_ breasts," he repeated.

"Yeah.. some nice tits," Iggy said with another audible gulp. It sounded like he was sucking his breath in while talking.. higher, or rougher, something.

"Yeah.. they feel nice," Fang said, sounding like he was somewhere far in the distance. It was silent for a moment longer.

"But, Max.. I couldn't know _Max _would..." Iggy started suddenly, breaking the silence, trailing off.

"Yeah.." Fang echoed again. "But.. breasts, and curves."

"Yeah.. they feel.. really uh, cool."

I immediately stomped away.

Sexist, _pigs_.

Freaking both of them.

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**A/N:**

So, yup. I hope I'm transitioning back more into canon In-Character Max now. Before, OOC Max was her age and circumstance and all.. but obviously, as you can see, they're obviously maturing now.. Afterall, they have to get to 14 _somehow. _That includes their character and personality at 14 too. This entire story is all just.. a weird prelude. The storyline has progressed..

The sexist pig thing.. you really didn't think that I'd just let Max allow them to like, cop a feel. It was a do-able thing when she didn't understand what a feel was, but now she gets it. _Now, _they are sexist pigs, cause afterall, Max is a lot more knowledgeable now.

For the record, in response to a bunch of reviews I got on the _really _early chapters and still occasionally get: Check the books. Fang doesn't get his laptop until _after _the first book. And in my story, the first book is still _yet_ to happen. They didn't have internet access in the E-shaped house. Just TV.

_Don't worry_, everything will be more canon IC Max from now on.. but that doesn't mean that my plot is destroyed! Don't worry.. things will still get interesting.. perhaps even _more_ interesting. They are no longer.. knowledgeableless. :P

So whaddyou guys think of how I eased in Max?

Oh, and also, how long do you think this story should be? I'm so frickin amazed its so long already, but I don't want to make this into one of the annoyingly long, boring, _drone-y_ epics.. bleh, yaknow? So whats a good length? Cause I've still got a few ideas hidden up my sleeve.

The next chapter will be good. =)

Oh, and about, in the book, how Fang describes those beach bunnies to Iggy: can blind guys really like things they've never seen before, with attraction? I'm so confused. Anywho. What else? Oh yes: Obviously, the books are PG-13, so JP can't exactly put in their beach-bunny conversations.

But _obviously_, _any_ sort of conversation concerning the description of a beach bunny _cannot _be PG. Especially when 14-year-old boys are having it. They'll obviously use words like curves, and boobs, and tits, and tight, and stuff. I mean ask yourself what the entire _premise _of a beach bunny conversation is? _What _are they going to be talking about? DUH! So yeah. Don't think I made them ultra OOC when they had that conversation.. I really do think that thats how they conversed about beach bunnies in the book, especially if in their first ever conversation about boobs like that. Afterall, they must know _something_ in order to be able to describe girls on the beach in the books. Obviously, Max must know _something_ in order to be irritated by it. Just made sense for her to overhear them discussing her, herself. No wonder she considers them sexist pigs when they check out girls, like when they checked out her.

**THANKS FOR 1000 REVIEWS IN 22 CHAPTERS.. OF MY FIRST STORY EVER!**

This whole Iggy thing will be cleared up soon 'nuff. Please don't complain. (It doesn't encourage me to write, in case you were wondering). (If anything, it just makes me want to do an unwanted pairing _even_ more, out of spite). Just trust me. Review the chapter and writing, and find out sooner. And if you're _going_ to be irritating, go up and read that little toolbar again to look at the pairing of this story. Just _please _don't bombard me with hate mail about the occurrences going on in my story, when you obviously don't hate my story as it is if you're already up to chapter 23. Suspense is all the thriller. Deal with it, its for your own good. When you complain about things, all it does it make me think you hate my story when you actually really don't. That just makes me angry in the long run.... Angry me doesn't write.

Anywho, if anyone cares, I'm getting emancipated from my parents. Big deal, big hassel, lawyers and shit, so god, this sucks, and its annoying. Yuppers. I dun need well-wishers, but reviews on what you thought of this chapter of this story would be great. ;)


	24. Are You Bored?

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Twenty-Four**: Are You Bored?

It'd been a week since I'd had that sexist pig epiphany. —and to think I woulda trusted those guys with my freaking butt.. or chest.. or anything. I dunno. It was all so confusing at this point as well. Iggy certainly didn't seem all that perverted around me, but what he'd said to Fang.. it was.. contrary..

_Tits_. Ugh. I just shuddered and even blushed at the thought. Those are like..what cows had, weren't they? Was that a compliment or something?

I looked down to observe my boobs, assessing them strategically, but not knowing what to think or say. Were they.. nice? My wet hair was drooping down onto my shoulders all brown-like and stuff. I reached with my hand to cup my right breast, as I observed it closer from up above in the shower. Tits. Ugh. God, I still couldn't help but shudder at the thought. They'd gotten more.. weird shapely, since I'd started wearing a bra.. they started curving upwards, looking more rounded to me. The shower water kept splattering down on me throughout the meanwhile.

Slowly, and carefully, I brought my hand around from cupping in it to touch the little extended nub of my nipple. I pressed it in once or twice. Sometimes it was large, and sometimes it wasn't. Either way, my bra covered it when it was large, which was a good thing, a societally acceptable thing, I presumed.

Curiously, I brought two fingers down on the extended thing to press down and squeeze it. I did it slowly, I did it hard, and immediately I felt a stinging sensation down in my crotch.

Ugh, I should stop this. Remember, I said I wouldn't think about this stuff. I don't need to feel that way down there.. all it did was remind of Fang and that strange feeling he'd left me hanging with and made me feel that way.. that day.

"_Thats where.. my penis is supposed to go," _is what he'd said that day in Iggy's room, his fingers hovering over that bloodied spot on my vagina, tantalizingly rubbing up and down above it. I hadn't dared to touch it myself down there, but those words had still been echoing inside my head since.

"_Thats where my penis is supposed to go," _Fang had said, while touching an area on my vagina curiously. His_ penis_.

I didn't have the nerve to touch any place down there.. but.. I slowly brought my hand around to hover on the bushy field of a dark mess on my pelvis. A pointer finger lightly pointing inwards to me, I spoke to myself in my mind.. _thats where.. his penis is supposed to go.._ _inside _me_..?_

His penis.. He meant.. for sex, right?

He meant.. he and I, having sex.. with each other? His _penis.. _there..?

"_Thats where my penis is supposed to go," _he had said, his hands resting gently on two spots on my vagina.

He had been teaching me.. slowly, gently, and carefully... that day. He had explained to me what sex was.. puberty, his erections, why I got my periods.. and then pointed _out_ sex that night on the bed.. clearly. But he'd said _his_ penis, was supposed to go in there, to explain to me clearly how sex was supposed to be.

That thats how we'd have sex.. How we'd have sex.. with one another.. With his penis.. here, in my vagina. Thats what he'd said.. that we'd have sex together, someday..

_GOSH. What was he thinking?! _

_His_ penis in _my_ vagina?! _He said he was supposed to put _his_ penis in that empty spot in my vagina?! He said we were going to have _sex _together?! That he was going to—supposed, to put his penis inside of my vagina and pump up and down?_

I hurriedly tore myself from the shower, realizing that these thoughts were no good. I jumped out of the shower and hurriedly threw on a bra, panties, and a large t-shirt, with an overflowing pair of pajamas on me, working fast so as to take my mind off of things.

Afterall, he was probably just saying it figuratively, and not personally related to _me. _

My hair was still damp as I walked out into the living room from the upstairs shower, and my face was still red too, but I was hoping that it'd pass with the drenched shower look I was totally 'sportin' ?

I sat down on the floor in the den, leaning against the bottom of a couch Nudge was lying her stomach ontop of, whilst perusing through another magazine. Sometimes I wondered whether or not those would eventually come to be a bad influence on her..

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A while had passed. Nudge had fallen asleep on the sofa.. I told Igs to bring her upstairs, and he did so, looking sorta sleepy himself. Gazzy was probly already out, and Angel was hanging out with her stuffed animals in her secluded little corner of a bed, until she too, would probably fall down.

I was still sitting there, feeling sort of dazed out. My damp hair had dried out a while ago, although it was still looking pretty scraggly behind me. I leaned my head back onto the knee-bend of the couch, looking up thoughtlessly and aimlessly, still sitting on the floor of the den, and leaning on the couch Nudge had been lying on.

It was silent for a moment. A nice type of silent.

"Are you bored?" I heard Fang's voice lightly ask me at some point. I looked over to him and cocked my mouth to one side, honestly thinking about it. He was casually slouched onto an armchair adjacent to me.

I wasn't precisely bored—it was hard to bored when you were just normally so busy. I was enjoying the time, but did I have anything particular to do? No. I wondered why he was asking. Fang usually never asked things for no reason or just for menial conversation. I don't even think he even knows how to menially converse, it suddenly amusedly struck me. I looked up at him with a grin on my face at the thought, and were he more expressive, a look of skeptical confusion would be written on there.

"So?" He asked again, cocking an eyebrow up a little questioningly. There was a mischievous twinkle on my face as I silently jestered at him in my head, the reason still unbeknownst to him.

"Sure," I replied, smile still on my face. Fang was so stupid and silly sometimes, especially with his lack of real defining facial expressions in oft frequency. He stood up from the other armchair at my answer then. He observed my stupidly grinning face bemusedly for a moment, before deciding to look past it.

"Let's go then," he said, giving me a slight glance before turning around.

I stared at him confusedly for a moment, before getting up with a groan, and following him. I wondered what he wanted to show me.

By the time I had slowly gotten up and gotten upstairs to follow him, he'd already seemed to have had time to change.

I reached the top steps to see light pouring out into the hallway from an open door on the left side of the hallway, door open ajar, from which he was leaning out of, staring at me. He had changed into looser, more laid back clothing, wearing a plain white t-shirt, cotton and as thin as light. It seemed be just a light undershirt or something of his, and a small white towel was also slung on top of his left shoulder.

I walked towards him curiously, since the room he was leaning of was, afterall, the bathroom.

He saw me coming towards and turned around and went back into the bathroom. By the time I had reached inside, I saw him leaning over the sink and looking into the mirror.. rather vainly. I stifled a laugh as I watched him. He was rubbing his cheeks and the sides of his jaws down over and over again, inspecting his face thoroughly. He saw me watching him from the mirror and then turned around, the towel still hanging on the side of his shoulder.

"So," he started casually. I looked at him amusedly.

"You look clean," I said honestly, a smirk on my face. He returned it rather wryly.

"I'll show you how to shave," he said with half a shrug.

Oh. So thats why he looked so clean—he'd just freshly shaved the few stray hairs around his jawline and upper lip.

Oh. He'd asked me if I was bored cause he could show me how to shave. Wait, that didn't make sense though. He had _just_ already shaved, right?

He walked over to me, the towel still hanging off his shoulder, his back lean and straight, a good four inches taller than me. Woah. Since when did that happen? Last time I checked it was only two. Darn those growth spurts. The books at the library had said guys grew like weeds at this point in development. Darn it.

He broke me out of my thoughts by putting a hand on my shoulder and nudging me to the tub, his navy dark checkered baggy pajama pants loose around his feet.

"So, uh, get in," he said. I shrugged and stepped in, standing there for just a moment expectantly, wondering what he was about to do. It was right next to the doorway and he quietly nudged it shut behind him with the back of his heel before moving back towards me again in the tub. He urged me to sit down inside the dry white tub.

"I'll do it first, to show you," he said.

I nodded, curious.

I really had just wondered how to shave. Afterall, I knew Iggy didn't like doing it, cause he said he was lazy, and that Fang did it every morning and sometimes in the afternoon, if he wanted to, or was bored.

It was curious how they managed to get the hair off. (Even though, only temporary, as evidenced by all that random scruff on Iggy's face). Sometimes I'd see little tiny cuts on his face, although Fang didn't have them anymore, like he did in the first two weeks, nor Iggy anymore.

I wondered why, and I wanted to see.

I sat down, waiting expectedly, looking up, and wondering why I needed to sit here. Maybe he needed space.

Much to my surprise, I followed him with my eyes as he lifted his legs and stepped into the tub with me, sitting down across from me. The confused look on my face gave it away.

"Why're we here?" I asked him confusedly once he had gotten in. Afterall, we were in the tub, and were fully dressed, having no intention of removing our clothes. I didn't want to be in the shower with him undressed.. uh, certainly not.

Sitting across from, his knees bent up awkwardly and uncomfortably, my own folded up criss-crossed ones in the tub, he faced me with level eyes.

"I'm going to do it _for _you," he said, referencing shaving. I was skeptical at this point. His jaw was completely clean, and his face looked fresh, by now.

"So, show me," I quipped in response, confused, and growing a bit impatient. He had already shaved, how was he supposed to _show me_?

"Take off your pants and your underwear," he said, still looking at me normally. I raised an eyebrow.

"_**Why**__?" _I challenged him, taken aback.

"I'm shaving _you_," he elaborated, looking quite irritated.

"Wait, _what_?! Why?!" I exclaimed, my hands automatically going up to the sides of the tub to propel me out at any second. I thought he was just going to do it on himself to show me.

"Cause I have to show you some_how, _don't I?" he continued, looking incredulous.

Sometimes I got the feeling that he thought I was the dumbest person in the world.

"And you can hurt yourself the first time," he added.

Oh. I didn't want to be bleeding all over, like the first time I'd seen him try. I looked at him with a hostile gaze, untrusting, but relenting, my curiosity overwhelming me.

"What're you going to shave?" I asked him cautiously after a moment. Afterall, as far as I knew, I didn't have any prominent patches of facial hair, like he did.

"Your um.. your," he gestured weakly to the center of the point in which my legs met one another.

_Ugh_, really? I looked up at him bregudgingly for a moment, but he seemed unphased by my glare, his eyes and his eyebrows still level as they stared at mine.

Nevertheless, my curiosity overwhelmed me.

He had seen me that day I had gotten my first period. He knew I'd had hair there.

Giving him another begrudged look, I uncrossed my legs tightly and got up out of the tub, propelling myself on my arms outside of the tub. I stepped out, his eyes still following me, and slid down my pants and my underwear, not bending down and giving him a better view, just simply stepping out of them.

Sliding them down, I got sight of the dark hairy mess on my pelvic bone and noticed it for a moment, before I resignedly stepped back into the tub. The cool air of the tiled bathroom walls at night sent a chill through my legs, most pointedly on my crotch, as I automatically felt it slightly wetten more than before.

Still giving him the glare, I sat back down in the tub. His face was apathetic and absolutely unchanged from before, despite the fact that I was sitting across from him undressed from the lower hips down now. His eyes were apathetic and emotionless as he looked at me a moment more before getting straight to work.

Moving his eyes down from my own, he placed one hand on my knees in the tub, while the other reached down, his neck twisting, as he looked down to grab something from some stuff he'd left at the side of the tub.

Grabbing the thing, whatever it was, he simultaneously spread my legs apart to open up my knees to him. My face, still looking begrudged, sent him another glare, but he wasn't looking back up to me at this point. He had shifted himself up, as he bent down low to level his head with my nether-regions.

He was looking quite uncomfortable, his legs large, and cramped inside the tub. Sighing quietly, exasperatedly, he then grabbed the sides of my hips, on the back of my buttocks, much to my surprise, and lifted them up to propel my hips high up above, level with my chest now, and his. I gasped in surprise and shock.

"Fang, what're you doing?" I asked him angrily, irritatedly, but he seemed to be irritated too.

"I'm trying to _see_ you idiot. What've you got up there for brains?" he mumbled agitatedly.

"More than you do," I responded snidely, his hands still gripped around the sides of my butt. This was strange and uncomfortable, as well as distinctly unorthodox, I presumed.

"Ugh, whatever. Just put your feet along the end of the tub behind me," he instructed me annoyedly, seeming to have given up with angling my body towards him for a view.

I did what he said, so now that the the insides of my knees were hovering on the outside of his outer elbows. He slowly brought his hands up to grip my calves and then bring my feet down below me, to sit flat on either sides of his thighs. My knees were now bent up on either sides of him, and he had lowered his neck and bent himself down to below me. He slowly moved his thighs and knees backwards against the opposite end of the tub to propel his head down further. Looking around somewhere beneath me, he decided to be seemingly satiated, and then lifted his head back up.

His face didn't look.. sexist piggish in the slightest.. no semblence of pervertedness or any lecherous attitudes, or any snide, teasing words of the sort seeming to be ready to come out of his ears. He.. he just looked worried.. nearly tense in concentration.. like he really, really didn't want to mess this up.

My glare faded as I saw the look on his face as he assessed the outer lips of my vagina technically, before assessing the patch of hair on top, and then finally lifting himself up to level his head with mine again.

Looking down and concentrating, he took that thing that was in his other hand for a while and shook it a few times before bringing it down to me, between my legs, and shaking it a few more times before spraying it down onto the top of my crotch, above the vaginal lips, where the large mass of hair was mostly sitting.

He did it strategically and professionally, and once he was done engulfing the bit of it in fuzzy white foam, he put it back down on the outside of the tub, my legs still spread wide before them, and my bent and spread knees hitting either sides of the walls to him, feeling like sweating profusely,

His head still down, looking down and focusing on it, I watched him bring his hands up and rub his hands around the hairy area, spreading the white foamy substance over and everywhere on that top area, up and down, and all over completely. He lifted his fingers up and down and grabbed a few bits, gently tugging a few strands sometimes, as if, nearly, in his own curiosity. He tugged a piece gently hard, and I let a small 'eep!' of surprise escape my throat, and I swore I saw a smirk on his face, even though his head was still down.

The tugging and rubbing up above my pelvis made everything feel distinctly warm down in my vagina, and I couldn't help it.

After he was done, and all the hair on top was streaked with whitish foam, he set down the can and blew on the area. For some strange reason, I felt myself grow wetter and wetter below, even though he wasn't exactly touching the area right by my vagina, but just the area on top. The wetting feeling made me embarrassed, and I hoped to god I was just _feeling_ it, and that no mucous-like secretions was coming out. Deaar god, I hoped so.. and even then, I hoped and reminded myself, he might just mistake it for the whitish foam too, or better yet—not even know what it was.

Naw. Of course he'd know what it would be.. he'd known all this stuff before I, myself.

Bending down lower now, the towel swinging off his chest to brush against the outside of my inner thigh, he brought something else up with his other hand, and brought it down on my pelvis, rubbing up and down gently at first, before going down rougher, and stricter on the hair. When he brought it up, a little stick like thing, with a horizontal thing at the end, I saw bits and pieces of extracted hair stuck on the end of the shiny thing at its long, oblong, rectangular head.

I watched curiously now, as he continued to do so, strategically, gently, knowledgeably, and carefully. He would take the tip of his towel down from his shoulder and brush lightly over the areas it seemed like he was done with. It seemed like a tedious and careful process, as he worked carefully and oh-so attentively, and with every brush, as he got closer and closer to making the whole front area hairless and bare, I felt more and more hypersensitive of that area way way, way below, and the empty space there, and what felt like the sweltering sides around on my vagina. God, what was he doing? He wasn't even touching me, yet I was feeling all these things wrack through me.. I was dreading when he'd get up to the outer vaginal lips, and if could see all that white mucous like stuff..

The feelings growing out through me and the reddening my face and my reddening face.. we'd been here for a half an hour already, Fang diligently working on shaving my nether-regions, only the back of his hair visible to me as he looked down and inspected and checked me critically, working on me so carefully and attentively. I couldn't take this anymore.. it was making me feel too..

"Fang, stop," I said suddenly, feeling like my voice was breaking.

He looked up, almost nearly dazed out and sent me a distracted, questioning look. I noticed his face and mouth was just a few inches away from my wet crotch— wet not only from the shaving foam, but also from inside. Seeing his face in such close proximity to me.. it.. it made me just shudder.

I didn't say anything after he was shooting me that confused look, and it suddenly changed to an annoyed one.

"Why?" he asked irritatedly, ignoring me and going back to work, lowering his head again.

I sighed now. Audibly. He looked up at me again this time, and his face softened. He put down the little razor blade to the side, on the outside of the tub, next to the pile of other odd thing and stuffs he'd put there, and then looked up to me. He stared at me a moment longer, my face red and wary and nearly shaking, and I noticed his own was rather tired in itself. Tired, cause he'd been paying so much attention into doing this carefully, I'd realized, and then immediately felt guilty, cause he wasn't seeming like a sexist pig in the slightest right now.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" He asked curiously, looking at me in the eye. Annoyed, I looked away. Things _shouldn't_ be hard for me. I was _Maximum Ride_. Things should always come easy to me. Yet, here I was, sitting here, my knees quivering and wanting to shut close, and my face all blood-rushed, beet redded. I looked away, irritatedly, but I could still feel his glance on my face.

He picked up the shaving can from the side of the tub again and then leaned back down to look at my vagina, shaking it a bit and spraying some onto his finger as he observed it carefully.

"Just relax, Max.. just relax," he said, continuing on what he was doing. My head was still turned to the side, looking away, as I suddenly now felt his hands probe along my outer vaginal lips.

His fingers were spreading the foam down the two long strips.. and slowly.. slowly, ahhhh.. his fingers reach down into the cleavage that led down to my anus. A-ahhhh..

I closed my eyes, and felt my face grow redder, as some nub in my vagina started throbbing excitedly. I could practically _feel_ my heart sitting on my hard pussy, and I didn't even know why. I didn't know if Fang was oblivious to all this, as my eyes were still closed and shut tight, my head still looking away, as all I could focus on was the throbbing in my vagina, desperate, and the feeling of his two fingers rubbing and massaging down the sides of my vagina and the hairs there. Gently, he was massaging the foam into the hairs, making sure not to touch any of the nerves on the inside of my walls.. the ones that were making me feel to no end.

Now, all of a sudden.. I didn't want Fang to stop.. I didn't want him to do anything, but go.. go _more_.. although I didn't really know what I meant. All I knew.. was that, that throbbing was unsatiable, especially once he had gone down to touch the hairs along my anus.

He wasn't even doing anything wrong. He wasn't even being a sexist pig.. he was just, just shaving.

God, then why did I throb like thisthen?

I felt his fingers trail down and somehow, instinctively jerked up against him even more, pushing his fingers deeper into my skin, on the skin on my vagina. I relaxed a bit as I felt his hands continued to trail down, in the same deep way, even once I had put my pelvis back on the floor. I relaxed, breathing deeply, as I continued to feel his fingers run along my skin deeply. He was.. was.. massaging the white foam in.. deeper now, I think, taken the hint from me. I didn't care though.. my eyes were closed, and it felt good.. somehow, that was all that I could think about now.

I felt something cool on my skin, as I saw that Fang was now dragging the small razorblade-handle down the sides of my vagina and the outer and inner walls, gently lifting out and in to catch every single hair within the blades..

He rubbed it against me cleanly, before moving to the side and tapping it rhythmically against the edge of the tub, cleaning the hair out, while his other hand took the end of the towel resting on his shoulder and wiped it down cleanly.

And then.. and then he was done. He had taken his towel fully off of his shoulder instead of just lightly bringing it down to brush some wet hairs off gently. He had taken his towel off his shoulder fully, and now, with both hands, brought it both down to rub against my slightly wet, new pussy. It was dry, it was clean, it wasn't hairy anymore. Fang looked tired out, as he brushed down the clean, bare area now.

He had had stray hairs everywhere and all over his pajamas now, the lower portion of his shirt as well. _My_ hair. I stared at him clean some stuff around the tub neatly, as the beating in my heart grew noticable. The beating on my vagina grew down and out, now that he was off me, and away from my vagina, cleaning up the materials he'd put around us. God, Fang..

He had got up out of the tub, and was bending down and cleaning up some stuff he'd put on the floor, bringing up a wet dishcloth and sweeping off all the hairs along the side of the tub where he'd been sitting on. Suddenly he threw the pajama pants ontop of my knees as I stayed sitting in the tub, still a bit dazed out, as I watched him clean up after me. I looked down to the cloth covering my bare knees, falling down my bare legs and covering up my lack of modesty. It had been quiet for a long time now, but I hadn't noticed, succintly dazed out, laying there in the tub as he cleaned up.

Fang still hadn't looked in my unclothed, scantily-clad direction, at my crotch or at my bare legs, even once, once he'd finished. He'd been pointedly looking away, his back to me the whole time since I was done, and bare. He knew by now I thought of him as a sexist pig. He knew by now that I didn't want him to look at certain places of my body. Once he was done shaving me, he hadn't looked at all, respectfully. I was faced with Fang's back. I continued to stare it curiously.

I put on the pants and then realized I hadn't put on my underwear as I stood up.

It felt.. strange.. to feel completely, utterly bare against my skin, and just have the light loose, baggy pants swinging against me.. no hair to compensate for coverage under my pants. It felt strange.. I felt more liable to get wet or feel strange things as the baggy cloth brushed against me, tantalizingly close to my center-point.

"Hey, where's my underwear?" I asked him, as he was putting some of the shaving stuff back up on the highest shelf in the cabinet behind the mirror above the sink. I felt back to normal now, despite the fact that Fang was still right there, stray hairs from my vagina still sprayed over his plain white shirt and his navy dark checkered pajamas.

He turned his head the slightest bit out of the corner of slanted eyes, carefully making sure I was decent, before fully cocking his head to side to look at me.

"You don't really need it now," he said normally, putting some things back on the shelf, turning back, as he reorganized things around, "Afterall, you're not on your period."

I squinted at him skeptically. What was he saying? My bottom wouldn't feel so light, and airy... and so liable to feel and get wettened, if I wore some underwear right now.

Ugh. It was Fang though. So he probably just couldn't find it, despite that I had slipped it off right along with my pants on the side of the tub.

I stepped out and stood to the side awkwardly, still watching him put stuff back up and stuff.

"Uh, well, thanks," I said awkwardly. I wasn't really the type for expressing intense gratitude or anything. I probly wasn't very good at it either.. check case in point.. not that this was intense gratitude or anything though.

It was more of awkward obligation and politeness, although I wasn't really sure why I was following through with it, considering I wasn't really a polite person in the first place..

"Yeah, well I didn't really show you anything, I just did it for you today," he said casually, busyingly cleaning the razors over the sink.

"I'm pretty tired today, but I'll watch you do it some other day," he said casually.

I blinked a few times in curiosity.. surely he didn't mean.. _that_ place, again. To watch _me, _shave that place again. Hecocked his head to the side one second to look at me as I mulled it over in my head, agitation growing on my face at the thought.

".. don't flatter yourself, Max," he said, a half-hearted bare smirk on his face, as he turned back to the sink mirror cabinet. I felt myself seethe in anger, I didn't _flatter_ myself. UGH!

I shuffled around awkwardly. It was pretty late by now, and it was the time I'd usually go to bed.. but I was just feeling so damn uncomfortable.. My vagina felt clean and new and stuff.. but also, frighteningly sensitive. I shuffled around the small bathroom, Fang still at the corner at the sink away from me, as I awkwardly looked around for my pale green underwear set.

Everything.. felt so airy, and cool.. and everything in my pants.. felt so sensitive, and free.. Is this what it felt like to be hairless down there? I didn't think I liked it.

"Shouldn't you be going to bed now?" I heard a voice behind me. It was Fang. Since when did he get behind me? I'd been dazing out in that awkward light feeling in my pants as I'd shuffled around awkwardly, looking for my underwear. I nearly jumped in surprise, but didn't think I had the heart to turn around in face him. Afterall, my face was probably red now. I _wished _he'd stop doing that—creeping up on me.

"I—I'm looking for my underwear," I explained, my head down, as I looked down to the floor again, my eyes running over the seemingly empty floors quickly. His looming presence behind me.. was unnerving.

Suddenly, I felt his hands on my upper thighs, him standing behind me. No wonder it had been unnerving.

"Is it because of," he suddenly slipped one of his hands in between my legs, the thin layer of my light summer long pajamas separating us. He cupped my crotch, and his hand on my bare vagina.. even the outline of it, now clean and hairless, felt good. He went up and his fingers quickly stroked up and down through my pajamas quickly, ontop of my crotch area.. "—this?" he finished, bringing his hand up in front of me. He was still standing behind me, one hand still resting on my upper thigh as I saw his hand in front of me. The two first fingers were slightly saturated.

Because of me. I really, really blushed. I didn't know what to say. It was most likely true.

And then, as quick as lightening, he slipped that same hand back, _in_ my pajamas this time, skipping over everything, even the shaved zone, and quickly swiping up, to bring his hand back out. I didn't even have the time to gasp at being violated.. it was that quick.

He brought his hand up to me again. Now, it was coated in watery jello-like milky secretions of a paler color.

"Like that?" he whispered into my ear, asking me if that was the reason. A strange noise escaped my throat—one of indignance, shock, and sheer, utter horror. What was he doing? Was he really that pissed off at me? God, Fang.

"You know, you were so wet and sticky down there, when I was shaving you," he said in his deep, dark, illustrious voice into my ear, his whitish-fluid coated hand still raised up in front of me, glaring at me in the face, the light shining and reflecting off of the shiny material on his fingers. It had come from.. me.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked suddenly. I paused for a moment in surprise, at the question, staring at the glistening white stuff on his fingers, I couldn't help but stare at anything else; it was stuck right up front of my face.

"Its.. its semen," I wondered silently, answering.

The library books had said it was vaginal excretions, but it was also like what came out of Fang during his erections. I heard soft rumbling behind me, as Fang presumably smirked or laughed or something in ridiculousness. Oh. So, I guessed I was wrong.

"No, semen comes out of penises, when they ejaculate," he said, silently laughing at me. I grew angry in frustration. How was I supposed to know? It seemed sort of insane.

"This.. is what happens during ecstasy," he said, moving his fingers up and down a bit in front of me, the secretion he had caused through my pants making a strange sucking noise. I quieted down. I'd read that word before.. in one of those library books.. and now Fang was using it.. in reference to _me_..?

"Its for sex.. to make you feel good in sex, so you're _ready _for sex.. and it happens.. during _ecstasy_," he whispered out.

He moved his hand down to put it at the side of my right hip, his other hand still resting on my left thigh. He moved his hand against the side of my right hip on my pajama pants, rubbing the excretion off his hands. He then slid both his hands up my hips to rest gently, barely there, just hovering on the curve on my waist. I stilled in silence.

He spoke softly and silently into my ear, as if reaping significance into every damned _slow _syllable.

"You.. were in _such _ecstasy.. when I was shaving you.." he said softly.

Surprise and shock coursed through every vessel of my being.

I swallowed some bile that felt like it was creeping up on me, though I wasn't really sure if it was just saliva, in anticipation. Suddenly, I felt his hovering hands leave me, and his looming presence disappear. He was been telling me that I had been wanting to have sex with him while he was touching me in the shower. I felt _so_ embarrassed.. But after a moment, I noticed he was no longer behind me, bent over the side of the tub, turning the knobs and letting the water come rushing out of the taps.

One hand on the knob, he controlled the pressure of water flowing out, watching it go down. I turned, slightly twisted, as I watched the small hairs from me sitting on the tub sweep down with the water too, caught in the flow of the current, fall down through the drain of the tub.

I walked out of the bathroom and went down the hallway quickly to reach my room, my legs still seeming to be shaking. Immediately, I closed the door shut behind me, leaning against it, before the anxiety overcame me and I hurriedly took off my stained pajama pants, left with no underwear underneath.

From my height, I stared at the piece of clothing on the floor.. a big, dark, wet spot, visibly on the crotch area. Another wet spot on the side of the waist band, where Fang had cleaned his hands off.. my.. cum.

I stared at the thing disgustedly, and immediately felt like crying.

God, I hated Fang. Sexist Pig or not, whatever he was feeling like, whatever he did with me.. all it did was make _messed up_ stuff like this.

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A/N:

Blah. What a chapter to write.. I dunno if I did it justice.

Can I just say this? I really don't want to write the next chapter. Not cause its something you guys don't want to see or something you won't be happy with, but just because I'm lazy.

So, prepare yourself for wierd stuff.

Tell me your ideas! Maybe I can _make_ it interesting again! Maybe I can get interested again!

Warning: Since I feel like I'm fresh outta ideas for this plot so far (I've only got like, one or two left, and even then, I don't _really _know how to execute them), I get the feeling that the next chapter.. will be really, _real_ trash. =.= Uh, so, beware.

**Oh.. and er, ****note**: Fang didn't _keep_ Max's underwear or anything, like stowed away in his pocket or something.. thats weird, and perverted, in like, epic proportions.. He actually, _literally, _couldn't find it, and didn't know where it was. He wasn't advocating for Max _not _to wear underwear when she's simply not her period, he was just saying so that it wasn't _that_ urgent to have it right now—that she was already covered up enough for now, so it didn't really matter.

And as for the elaborate shaving thing—fangs' always struck me as the type of person to do things properly. Whats _interesting _is that.. hm.. nope—read to find out!! I've got 87,000 hits. w00t yay ! =D

oh yeah. and i put up a little scene. If you go to my profile, theres a new story called "It Never Happened," and basically, thats a companion to Let Me Help You. So far, it only had one chapter up, but basically they're all scenes I've considered putting into this story but have decided not to in the long run. Let Me Help You is running on its own line, but as for the question that summarizes this story (_What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?_), those are all the other possible outcomes that could've happened. You Brigid-haters will probably like that sort of stuff btw--making Fang meet Brigid in Let Me Help You was a major choice I had to make to steer the story in one direction. Other possibilites I had for Let Me Help You will be put up there.

If you like this story, you'll probly like that one too. Afterall, they complement one another. Like.. like "alternate endings" or something. But just to make things clear: its not a story--just random possibilites and scenes that Let Me Help You could've gone in. Basically, it coincides perfectly with this story if you branch off after Chapter 13.

Yuppers. So far, I've only gotten one scene up, but I'll put the rest up if you guys seem to want it. (You know what that means.. review.. cough). The only reason I'm hesitant to do it, is because most of the little spoofs I have are really sloppy and nonsensical, as well as OOC. Some people have been saying that that first chapter makes more sense with the story than what I have in the canon LMHY, but I dunno.. my judgement differs.

Review on both please!


	25. To be Trash, or Not to be Trash

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

_

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_**[Warning, this chapter contains some intense trash, most _particularly_ at the beginning.]  
**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**: Trash, or Not to be Trash..?

You like to rub yourself against the chair. When your tits rub up and down against the cold top of the chair edge, it feels like euphoria in your clit. Your knees start quivering and your vagina throbs as your nipples rub up and against, up and down the freaking chair, everytime it touches it, you feel like peeing out right there, cause it just feels like too much for you.

You like rubbing your crotch against the seat of the chair, strained and far, yet a teasing brush against you, makes you all the more.. _wet._

You like playing with the chair and putting your crotch on different places on it, and then... ..._rubbing. _

You like standing in the middle, with your feet on either of the seat and rubbing back and forth on the backs, squeezing your titties.

Its like all is there is your butt, you hate that empty feeling in your butt, so you feel like you have to—_need _to—put something on the anus, _into _your anus, clenching it up and down with your butt cheeks like stroking a thick-hard penis with your butt, while you rub up and down, your vagina sweltering, so untouched, and so empty compared to your anus, it _throbs. _Only your butt is fullfilled as it clenches the random thing you put in there—a small shampoo sample bottle, the tip of a toothpaste tube, the end of a razor's handle, whatever you can find at the time, to quench that little circle, and squeeze tight. It is desperate. _You_ are _desperate_, which is why you put anything there.

You do it rhythmically on your butt, up, down, up, down. Cause theres nothing else there, and your vagina is throbbing so hard, you feel like leaking your heart out in desperate, desperate, desperate.. _something_. The rhythmic squeezing on your butt.. you clench the small item up and down between your butt cheeks, and it creeps onto your anus everytime it goes up and down, enough to satiate you. _It turns you on, _to no end.

You feel so horny, like you cant last another moment on this earth without reaching that unquenchable pleasuredom, like you want someone to squeeze your tits off, hard, to suck on them hard, to no end. To pull off the little pleasurable nubs that you like to squeeze against your chair, tight. You squeeze them against the chair hard right now, up and down, up and down, you like the friction. You are convulsing in impatience, anticipation, you feel like screaming and shouting, in that feeling of ecstasy, as your tits rub up, and down, and up, and down. You keep on moving up and down against the chair, you're _rubbing_ against it, and your vagina feels _so_ empty, but your anus feels _so_ full. You clench your butt again, anything to get closer to your pussy thats feeling _so_ empty, so hard and horny right now. Theres nothing else to do, you love this feeling, but you're shaking, cause it just.. it just feels like _too_ much.

You go up and down and up and down, running your right nipple over it and under it, _dragging _it back up against the chair so that you _feel_ it extra hard. Your breast is swinging back and forth, slowly, as you rub your nipple against the chair.. _hard. _Your vagina feels like its sweltering, you just have to wait until the house is empty until you can take another chair from the kitchen and do it again, sticking your butt up into the air, imagining that its someone's _hard, _hard penis you're just rubbing against, as your titties rub against the chair top, back and forth like its dangerous and sick and hurting, you rub it hard, like you want it to hurt, cause you want it to hurt, cause your vagina just throbs _so _hard, and it leaks _so _hard, white fluid dropping out of your empty vagina, as you keep rubbing back and forth on top of the chair with your breasts.

Your arms are hanging limply over the top of the chair as you rub your chest against the back, the chair is faced around, your sweltering vagina leaking over the seat you are hovering backwards over. You have been pushed up against the back of your chair to rub your whole body up and down, anything to get closer, the friction on your nipples as you do so against the cool metal, incredible.

Finally, you give up, you can't take it anymore, and grab another chair and put them back to back so that you can get up, kneeling over them together, your feet put on either cushion, you are bending your knees as you take a seat on top of the conjoinment and you _rub_ back and forth, trying as hard as you can desperately, to reach, reach that _thing_, that makes your vagina so wet and hairy and insatiable, and thats making you feel so jittery—thats making you want to pull your nipples off and _squeeze_ much as you hate it, you want it again, which is why you rub your tits over the chair over and over again, to feel the white stuff dripping down from your vagina slowly, before you can give up and put the two chairs together and rub it over them all again, this time with your crotch on top. _Finally_, there is some contact on your vagina. You gasp in pleasure, your neck jerking up in surprise so that your head now faces the ceiling, _finally_ there is some contact. You are rubbing erratically against the chair, your hands leaning over them to support your crazy butt-rubbing erratically, your breasts swinging up and down haphazardly 'cause all, all you can focus on, is _that feeling. _You are gasping in and out, your breasts swinging up and down, your vagina and clitoris, wetting the chair with fluids as you rub back and forth in desperate _desperate _need.

Coming closer and closer, your butt stops sticking out, but instead clenches over the thing you've placed there, your back convulses and turns and you suddenly grab your titties _**hard**_,and with each hand, you squeeze tight so that it hurts, but no—it feels _**so good**_, as you come closer.

Your orgasm is quiet, mind-breaking. You are simply sitting there, clutching your breasts to no end, as you finally reach towards.. towards it. The backs of both of the chairs are softly becoming coated in your thick fluids quickly. They are running down the chairs, as your crotch quivers, inundated itself in your own sex fluids. Your eyes are closed, as you keep squeezing your tits, your vaginal lips still wide open and ontop of the chairs you are kneeling over. And for the first time ever, your knees are closed as you try to ride out the reached orgasm. You buck quietly with a gasp, your hands still clutching your breasts like no tomorrow. Your heart is beating fast, your eyes are closed, as you are bucking forward, softly, gently. _Finally_..

Orgasm.

_**_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-**_

What _was_ that?

My eyes shot open, and immediately I felt weird feeling, almost like a full gas bubble in my crotch, waiting to come out. My hands were gripping my breasts tightly, and I felt them throb when I suddenly let them go. They felt sore. I extracted them and put my hands to my sides and waited a few minutes uncomfortably, and then suddenly, rapidly, I felt my entire panties wetten and become saturated and sticky against my skin. The gas-bubble seemed to have released.

Crap, I thought it was my period. But no, I'd just had it last week. I had a feeling.. that this was something _different. _Cum.

And for the first time ever, it was wet _right_ against my skin, as Fang had shaved me last night. I could directly feel the stickiness.. _everywhere_.

Ugh, _ew_, I thought, as I felt all that sticky mess down there. It was so sticky, and I knew it came from my crotch, but I could feel the stickness reach up into my butt.. thats how sticky it was.

I got up, with a disgruntled, disgusted look on my face, and suddenly took a glance at the alarm clock.

Shi-itast-ickk. It was freaking 12 noon. I had freaking slept in.

And NO ONE had freaking bothered to wake me?! Now, I was angry. I almost never sleep in.. I could only recall two instances in which I did, and trust me, they were not pretty.

This is not pretty either, I told myself disgustingly, slipping my underwear and pajama band down my thighs to see the _entire _lining of the inside of my new, fresh, piece of underwear, completely and utterly saturated and inundated in what Fang would call cum.

Ugh, _ew_, I had been in ecstasy _while I was asleep_?I _hate_ puberty.

And, besides, what was with that dream! I blushed red at the thought, and wondered why there was _so_ much of the white stuff in my underwear today. Never before had there been just _so_ much.

Sliding these panties back up onto my crotch and putting them back on would be equivalent to putting on a pair of completely wet, thick ones. I looked down at them distastefully, still irked at how late it was. My face was a visage of steel.

If I put on another new pair, not only would I have more laundry, but I'd also wet it all over again, since my crotch was just as sticky and a mess as well. I didn't even _want_ to look down there. Suddenly, I felt another gas-bubble feeling, and it made me pause and hesitate, stop for a moment, I sat down on my bed again. My dirtied underwear was discarded to the side, completely saturated. I looked behind me to see that somewhere during the night, I had discarded my bra; it was off to the side. I wondered what had been going on with me, as I suddenly felt a sensation pop out from down below.

Oops. Wrong thing to do, sit on the bed. I felt the gas-bubble like feeling disappear as it came out.. and now, my sheets that I'd been sitting on, had white stuff on them, more than what had been on my crotch. What was this? It was like a period, except in bursts, and it was white stuff coming out... I hoped that was the last gas-bubble wetting whatever, but I continued sitting there, uncomfortably, on top of my pile of cum on the bed.

_How is it possible to be in ecstasy, _while _you're asleep?! _I asked myself irritatedly.

Maybe.. it was that dream.. I wasn't very good at remembering insignificant dreams, and this one was already fading.. All I remembered was that I'd used words I wouldn't normally use.. titties? But somehow, it felt all the more.. uh, arousing, to use them, just knowing that they were nonexistantial, and bad, in theory. That was the funny thing about dreams—you were always conscious of yourself, but the justification for your actions were always ludicrous. I was aware of how stupid of a word 'titties' was, yet I'd used it anyway, under the terms that.. it made sense to ?

I remembered.. something about a chair, and rubbing my crotch ontop of it.. two chairs put back to back together, and me sitting ontop of them, with my feet on either sides.. I remembered wanting the feeling of a penis behind me.. What the fuck?

Now, I normally don't curse.. but seriously, this was.. strange, and confusing. Why would I have such a weird dream like that? Why would I wake up, squeezing my, um 'titties,' them feeling sore, and a load of cum in my underpants? With more coming out as I speak?

Why was a dream that _didn't make sense to me_ put me in so much freaking _ecstasy_, that I didn't even _get? _What did _ecstasy_ mean? Why did I orgasm in the dream? Was that even possible?

What was that.. incredible.. feeling.. like? It was already fading from me..

I'd read that orgasm is what triggers the end of sex. But why had I done it in the dream? I remembered the feeling of wishing for and wanting a penis near me, to rub against, but _why _was I rubbing?! Why was there so much cum coming out of me? This was so ridiculous.

Sometimes you really wished youd have a grownup to tell you these things..

...It wasn't possible to orgasm when you didn't have sex, right?. And you need a penis to have sex. There was no penis near me in that dream, but I'd been orgasming anyway. Actually.. well, nevermind. It was a dream; they weren't supposed to make sense anyway.

I sighed, as I felt like no more would be coming out anytime soon, and looked around my room for something to clean myself up with, before putting on a new pair of panties. I'd opt to just shower it all off altogether, but I needed to get down there already.. who knows what havoc the flock would've reaped without me? Last time Fang was left in charge while I'd slept, he'd seemed to strike the whole oppressive leader routine, not letting the kids come up or leave the kitchen (so they could bother me, apparently).. He'd made them just _sit_ there, freaking, for almost two hours and a half, to make sure they don't go upstairs.

Big whoop. I wondered what he'd done today..

Sighing, I looked around my room for a bit more. Oh yeah, Fang had placed a box of tissues by the side of my bed a while ago, when I'd told him about my periods being irregular and random. I'd spent a lot of time one morning a month ago, trying to figure out how to clean myself before I could get into the bathroom to put a pad on. He'd asked me why it'd taken me so long to get down to breakfast, and I'd told him, gruffly. And then he'd placed the box of tissues by my bed, for whenever it happens again.

He'd had a similar one next to his own, and it suddenly struck me, that it was probably for circumstances like _this one_. I remember ages ago, when I'd asked him when he'd first started getting a hard penis, and he'd said that it was mostly in his sleep that it'd explode.

Ah. I see now.

Moving over a few feet, I grabbed some napkins from the new tissue box, and leaned out, wiping myself down, and suddenly realizing how soft and nice, and clear my vagina felt on my fingers without the bushy cloud of hair on top. It had been probably over a year and a half since the last time it had been so smooth, ever since I started even _growing _hair there.

I knew that I had hated it right after Fang had shaved me.. but all of a sudden, it felt quite nice. Nice, and clear, and smooth.. soft.

Hm.. a thought struck me, but I pushed it aside to do some mulling over it later.

I put on a new set of underwear, threw on a pair of jeans, pushed my old pajama pants to the side, left the used tissue on the floor, ready to head downstairs. Right now, the bigger priority was to check up on the flock. I'd clean up my room, my sheets, and my soiled underwear later.

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I walked back upstairs and headed into my room, planning to clean things up a bit. The flock had done fairly well without me, probably because Fang had just kept quiet and eaten his breakfast at the table, while Iggy amused the kids.. however, that wasn't saying that any chores got done either..

I walked into my room, pink walls—thanks a lot Jeb—a small room, but the biggest in the house.

And then I saw that the stained sheets on my queen sized bed were gone, completely flipped off, only the bare mattress with pillows and a comforter left in its wake. The sheets were gone.

Completely confused, I looked around a bit more too. The piece of tissue paper I'd used to clean my crotch up wasn't there either. Befuddled, I walked closer to inspect things around the area. The spoiled underwear was gone too, and so were my old pajamas. I was getting angry.. where the freak were they?

I _knew_ I just left them here.. now where _where _they?! Looking around my room houndedly, I then suddenly spotted the discarded piece of tissue paper, stained with white fluid cum, that I'd brushed up from my vagina to clean it. It was thrown into the trash can.

Someone had cleaned up for me.

Well.. not precisely.. they hadn't redone the sheets or the bed. The pillows were just lying on the center of the mattress pathetically, as if they'd just pulled the sheets off, and thrown the pillows that had fallen onto the floor, and chucked them at the center of the bed after picking them up off the floor.

I stalked out of my room, my shoulders hunching peevedly, looking around and peeking into Iggy and Gazzy's room first. Nope. They were busy, hunched over some sort of video game in the center of their beds.

Angel was the only one in her and Nudge's room, and she was just brushing her doll's hair and patting her soft plushy elephant fondly down. Seemed innocent enough.

I was just about to check the bathroom for Nudge, when I bumped into a hard, stiff chest, covered in a pitch black shirt with a faded, chipped tore graphic circle on the front. The shirt was old, the graphic chipping off the shirt—cheap too—but the black was still radiant on it, looking just as new, for the exception of the ripping print.

I looked up agitatedly, busy at what I had been doing—searching for Nudge and trying to figure out who had cleaned my room. I looked up to see Fang's face look down at me from his chest.

"Hey Max," he greeted, moving to the side.

"Fang, you know anyone who went into my room?" I asked immediately, my eyebrows furrowed tightly.

Don't get me wrong.. I wasn't all private or anything. Anyone could come and go from my room whenever they pleased—and usually, they did. Gazzy or Angel or Nudge would sometimes just wander in and just sleep with me, or anyone could just come in sometimes to talk with me. It was a very open thing, my room, sort of like a living room, or 'step into the office of Max' or something. It was just that.. it was odd.. for someone to touch my stuff like that.. _that_ certain stuff..

However, Fang hadn't been irritating and wasn't obnoxiously mentioning anything to me so far this morning.. which is what I'd expect him to do if he'd seen my bedsheets or my underwear, but he seemed.. perfectly normal.. perfectly disconcerted.. perfectly, _perfect-ly _normal. The only strange thing he'd done this morning was take a side-long lingering glance down at my crotch when I'd first walked into the living room—the one that he'd been shaving last night. Regardless,

Regardless, Fang never did his bed.. so why would he touch mine? Not that the person who had touched my bed had actually put on new sheets.. they'd simply just swiped them off..

"Yeah, I cleaned some stuff up for you," he said.

I stared at him for a moment, soaking in the information, before I felt myself becoming angry.

He had _touched_ my room, and cleaned _my stuff_. I felt my fists ache and then clench, flexing into my palms.

_What_ the _freak?_!

"Woah, Max, calm down, I just did your sheets for you," he said, bringing his arms up in that universal sign of defense.

_Who cares?! HE TOUCHED MY STUFF_.

Especially.. all my stain-covered stuff. Now, I felt my face growing red.

"Fang, you don't EVER touch MY STUFF," I let out murderously, "GOT THAT?"

I poked him, hard, in the center of his left shoulder. He fell back a step at the impact. All my anger was taken out on the shove with my index finger, and it was a hard shove. I saw anger flash in his eyes for a moment, before it returned to its regular obsidian black.

Fang was quick about that—going through, sorting his emotions. But just like the rest of us, he got defensive easily.. it was just that, unlike me, he could sort through situations in his head quickly, so his anger changed quickly too, unless he was too tired to think out a circumstance. That was precisely why I needed a second-in-command like him—he tends to often think things out further than me, staying quiet, but inputting his advice where its needed.

Too bad this particular second in command was _pissing me off_ right now. How _dare_ he go through and touch my stuff? The fa-reaking nerve. Its not like I barge into _his_ room all the time and go through his stupid freaking _stuff_. Who _knew_ what he had in there? Man, I was angry, and it was showing in my inflamed eyes. My mouth opened ludicrously.

"I _BETTER NOT SEE YOU_ GOING THROUGH MY STUFF," I shouted angrily, "_EVER _AGAIN,"

"In fact, you know what? Just STAY OUT," I amended, "Just don't EVER go into my room, EVER AGAIN," I screamed at him. Loud.

I saw Nudge, startled, scramble up the stairs from the den, to see the loud scene I was making at Fang in the center of the hallway. It had probably flown out downstairs. The walls were thin, afterall. Angel hadn't come out of their room, probably able to hear and assess everything clearly from her mind from within her room, but Iggy and Gazzy had peeked their heads out of their room, their videogame discarded to the side, to stare at us.

Fang was looking down at me emotionlessly. For a second I saw anger flash through his eyes, before an inkling of hurt slowly became apparent, quickly replaced by sheer, utter scrutiny. Thats what I was faced with now—scrutiny.

"THERE ARE THINGS CALLED _BOUNDARIES, _FANG," I shouted at him, completely oblivious and aware of the kids staring at us, "YOU BETTER START _GETTING_ IT," I finished honestly, turning around, and giving him my back.

My face was red in anger, I was practically seething. I stood there for a moment longer, diagonally facing the side wall of the hallway. It was still and silent for a moment, and I could feel the breathing of everyone around us, Nudge at the top of the stairs, clutching the railing. Gazzy was looking practically frightened, clutching the side of the doorway from which he and Iggy were leaning out of. It was still and silent, and I could still feel Fang standing behind me, in the same place he had been in before.

I was practically seething, I was _so_ frickin' _angry._

And suddenly, Fang shoved me, back. He threw me to the floor, and Nudge gasped from down the hallway, still watching us silently.

Yes, sure, Fang and I fight a lot, but _never_ had I gotten _so_ angry at him in front of the kids. For the exception of the childish things we'd had tantrums over back when Jeb was alive, never have I_ ever _evenbeen _so_ angry at him in general, for something serious. This was something with an ultimatum—with the word _ever_. The kids were getting scared—that this would be something that would last.

And honestly, at the moment, I couldn't say that I cared less. I _wanted_ it to last. I was getting all my frustration out, the culmination of the last few weeks and of last night.. I just wanted it to end. I didn't care for the sake of the flock or anything, anymore. I just _wanted it to end. _I _wanted_ thistolast_._ I knew the rest of the flock didn't want it to though.. but the thought didn't strike me right at that moment. I just didn't want him to go into my room _ever_ again.. it seemed like a right wish at that moment_._

Fang was getting angry too.. he had shoved me hard, pushing me to the floor. I groggily found myself there.

I groaned slightly at the hard impact, despite the fact that it was carpet, it was _thin _carpet, and the wood underneath was rusty and hard. I lifted my head up slightly, my elbows bending, to bring my head up, and looked up to see him staring up at me, murder written in his eyes.

That was another thing about Fang—he got angry when people got angry, when he thought he wasn't allowed to be angry-ed at. Huh. Yup. He gets _really_ _angry. _Excuse the lack of proper syllables and conjugation. My head wasn't quite working exact at the moment, what with the fact of being hit onto the _floor _and all.

Fang stepped over and bent over me, the kids were still all watching us. Angel had daintily peeked out of her room too, her feet light as a petal on the grass, but I'd still heard it nevertheless. I looked up at him with a hard, disgusted, angry, _hateful_ glare. He was now bent over me, his feet on either sides of me, but hovering over me, his forearms resting on his bent knees. He was looking down at me angrily, everything written on his apathetic face. Only I could see it and feelit radiating out to me.

My body was twisted beneath him, I was half laying on my side, the way I had fallen on the impact, but twisted up in my efforts to get up. He looked down on me condescendingly, observing me for a moment. I watched his eyes slip down for a second to assess my boobs casually and disinterestedly, before moving back up to look me in the face. I continued to glare at him defiantly. Matching my glare with an uncaring one of his own, he bent his head forward, his elbows still jutting hard onto his knees as he got closer to me.

"You're just mad cause you had all that over your sheets.." he said quietly to me, his gaze unwavering and looking like he had had the epitome of right.

"But I was just trying to help.. and getting that stuff isn't easy," he said, "...I should know."

"I _would've _been able to do it," I gritted out, my face looking like the epitome of anger. I stared up at him with an ugly grimace sprayed on my face.

"Whatever you say.. you're just embarrassed," he whispered out louder, and then lower again, "I wonder what you were thinking about in your dream.."

I flushed. He knew.. I knew he knew. What that white stuff was.. I had known he'd be able to know.. which was all the more worse that he'd gone into my room. That frickin dumbass.

"That.. was a lot of cum on your panties.. for a girl.." he whispered out, close to my ear, so not even the kids would be able to hear. What a sexist pig..But there wasn't a lecherous smirk apparent on his face that I expected to be coupled with that sentence. He instead just gave me another angry glare as he slowly bent his knees up straight. His legs still standing on either sides of me on the floor, he looked down at me from his full height, his gaze unwavering, and angry.

"Wait, you had _what_ all over your sheets?" Iggy's voice asked us, breaking us out of our glare, out of our silent reverie.

My face suddenly paled as I realized that all the kids had been standing there for the while. Not that I didn't know before.. it just.. didn't _register_. Oh, crap. I wondered what they'd gotten out of this conversation.

Fang suddenly jerked his head straight up from me. Facing Iggy in surprise, his eyes seemed to widen. It seemed that it had slipped his mind too, as he looked around the hallway, his legs still standing on either side of me, as if finally noticing that all the kids that had been watching us screaming at eachother. Fang looked even more angry now.. nearly as if, embarrassed now.. to be screamed at in front of the kids.

Oh, shit.

_Thats a naughty word_, I heard a voice call out to me. Angel. Oh, great.

Great, great, great. Thanks a lot Fang. Fang suddenly jerked his head back down to shoot me another glare, almost as if he knew I was undoubtedly _unreasonably _blaming him for everything, in my head, right now.

Fang looked up at Iggy, dragging his eyes away from me face with a warning glance in his eyes, before responding to him.

"Nothing important," he casually said, "All the more reason why getting angry, is ludicrous," he stated succinctly, giving me a pointed glare below, with a jerk of his neck pointed at me.

I felt myself grow angry all over again. I bent up slightly at the waist, and threw a chop down in the inside of the left shin with the side of my left hand. Hard. He obviously didn't see that coming, and it was a hard hit, sharp as a knife. He jerked down to the side next to me in the sudden impact, groaning hard, and clutching his leg, just as I had bent up to look down on him. I put my foot on his side for a second, before he threw me another jerk on my ankle in order to get my foot off of him, hurting me greatly although I refused to let it show. I automatically jerked my foot off of him, and stared down at him from the floor.

"Someones' been reading the dictionary," I stated snidely, throwing him another glare before turning around. In an afterthought, I decided to speak.

"Oh.. and you too, Iggy," I started quietly, "There are boundaries. Don't touch me like _that, ever_ again, unless you _really_ want to get hurt," I seethed out threateningly.

I walked away, everyone in the hallway looking terrified of me. Most particularly, it was the kids, considering Fang just had an incredulous, absolutely grudge filled look on his face, whilst Iggy's was just simply confused.

I felt like taking a flight.

God, I was having issues.

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A/N:

Eh..

The title describes my thoughts for this chapter.. U-bleh..

As for the beginning.. as most of you know, I'm absolutely inexperienced in any of these such matters.. (_obviously, _considering my age), in fact, I don't think I ever will be. See, thats the funny thing about me. I write for a challenge, which is why I'm writing stories like this and my other one (hello? Child porn and incest?).

So why is it a challenge? Because.. well, frankly, I'm a prude. O_o Its true. Might as well get it out there. I'm really, just, sort of a prude. So in saying that I'm inexperienced, I will probably _stay_ that way, for a long, long, portion of my life. I don't really approve of half the stuff I write, in reality—hence, the 'challenge' of me writing it. Prude. (Eh. But who knows? Perhaps I'm just a closet pervert..)

Anyway, so the first part of that chapter, technically I only wrote some of it. (the part where is Max's dream). Then I sent it over to my beta reader and they changed it completely. Its okay though, its just not my style. Its also pretty graphic for me.. lol..

Oh, On another note. Realized I've never credited anyone on this thing. James Patterson made the flock and the kids and the story. I only skewed up his story, dissected it, and then perverted it completely for your entertainment.

Anyway, next update is gonna be at 1150 reviews. Meh. Later.


	26. Ad Nauseum

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?_

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Chapter Twenty-Six**: Ad Nauseum.

Yup. So you didn't mess things up.

Right, Totally.

There was no reason Angel and Gazzy and Nudge were scared out of their wits for you..

In fact, there was no reason Angel and Gazzy and Nudge were scared out of their wits for you _and_ Iggy.

You guys pissed Max off. She was angry at you, and she didn't want to to talk to you at all.

But if someone asked _you_, you'd just say that she was.. scared.. Scared of herself, and scared of how she knew _you_ made her feel..

Of course, the kids weren't about to go take _your_ side on this..

So.. how to fix this?

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Fang sighed, putting his head in his hands, perched ontop of a high tree, covered in the shade of the furry green leaves sprouting everywhere on those goddamned branches. He was watching Max and the rest of the flock; they were out in the field for another training/sparring/fighting session/flying lesson—whatever it was that she pleased.

_Of course_. It was always _whatever she pleased_. God, girls, why were they like this? He asked himself miserably.

At least she _sort_ of talked to Iggy. I mean, seriously, how could she not? He was the one who made breakfast.. and lunch.. and dinner.. as well as occasional, frequent snacks. She had to interact with him whether she liked it or not. Afterall.. she liked food..

But even then, she wasn't even seeming all that hostile to Iggy, he'd observed silently. It was almost as if she hadn't even remembered the threat that she had given him three days ago. She wasn't hostile at all to Iggy at all in comparison to the hostility she had towards _him_.

Then again, Max was most likely fully aware of the fact that Iggy hadn't even fully understood what she'd been talking about that day.. although, Fang wasn't fully sure if Iggy actually _hadn't _gotten it. Then again, one never really knew, with Iggy. That kid was certainly a character. He might've gotten it, and he might've not, Fang mulled over broodingly.

Regardless, Max was probably being kind to Iggy because she was pushing any inconsistencies or nonsensical thoughts out of her mind. Which of course, she did with _everything_, Fang pointed out wryly in his head, still staring down at her slim, lithe, curvaceous form thoughtfully as she formed out a perfect side kick to Gazzy. God, she was sexy. No, nevermind, he pushed those thoughts out of his head immediately. Afterall, thoughts like those were what had gotten him in trouble in the first place, he reminded himself scathingly.

Wait, no.. since when had he _ever_ voiced concerns like that _ever_ out loud to her? Seriously, he'd always been careful about it, and had never _ever_ mentioned any hormone-raged, puberfied thoughts out loud to her.

He suddenly, rapidly, _really_, didn't understand. What had he done wrong? He'd been being _so_ good about all that crap every since he found out that she knew. He was absolutely positive he'd never let a _single _word like that utter out of his mouth..

However, on the other hand, Max knew for sure, that unlike Iggy, Fang _knew _about the rest. Puberty, sex, hormones, cum, fluid.. He'd known exactly what she was talking about, all the way through. She was sure.

That was _probably_ why she was all the more mad at him. Nonsensical, but true. Well, that was Max.

Now.. what to do? He thought absentmindedly.

He regretted getting mad at her that day in the hallway _now_, but he certainly didn't regret it back then.

Max had that irritating, flighty, avoid-to-all-costs-until-faced-with-direct-confrontation personality of hers.. she never wanted to get straight to the issue, but she instead decided to spit out whatever came out of that head of hers whilst in the heat of anger—which, usually, were not completely well-thought-out things..

He was wondering if she was regretting it now, though she hadn't particularly made any signs of it as of yet..

_Yet_. There was always time to wait and see—perhaps, hope, if he was feeling _really_ desperate.

What she had done, was one of those snap decision things, that she was famous for making for.. However, making snap decisions, in the middle of the moment, in the thrust of anger, when you were angry _at_ your fellow flock member.. was not exactly _the _brightest thing to do in the book, eh?

Fang was still trying to figure out whether or not she was regretting it yet, but he still wasn't quite sure. She wasn't breaking, which meant she was either a) very, very, very regretful, but still stubborn, or b) way in over her head.

Fang chuckled slightly at the thought, still watching her warily from the side of his head. He was still leaning against the bark of the tree trunk, though lazily now, worn out from all that intense thinking he'd been doing. He was lying down on a branch, staring observantly, looking ready to take a snooze.

He considered the choices he had given himself.. Well, he was certainly the optimist, but it was only cause it was _Max_ he was dealing with here. He felt like he knew that whatever happened between them, it'd always get fixed eventually.. afterall, they were _Max _and _Fang. _They were practically genetically engineered—_literally—_to be able to head the perfect, abnormal flock, complete with a 5-year-old mindreader. Things would be fine, he assured himself. He'd just have to wait it out and see whether it was going to work quick, or slow..

Iggy jerked his head from the small distance below, directly up at Fang. He was sitting casually on the grass, leaning back on his palms, his head jerking up at the sound of the slight voice of a chuckle from him. That always startled him.. He sent Fang a worried glance, that was, albeit wasted on him, considering Fang hadn't looked back down meet him with another glance. Afterall, although things were fine between him and Max—though he _really _was wary of touching her now, in any way, shape, or form—things were still bad between Max and Fang.

Regardless, it wasn't as bad as that time Fang had spontaneously been barely at the house, out in town, for about a month. But... but this wasn't sad and guilt-ridden, awkward and unspokenly uncomfortable; this was angry and grudge-filled, and ferocious, all over. The atmosphere was tense, and grudged. He could feel it in the air, he didn't need to _see _to know. However, that was probably due to the fact that this time, their stubborn behavior had gotten a hold of themselves. He didn't really understand the fight, but all he knew was that Max didn't want him to touch her stuff, or even go into her room—something about.. boundaries?

He wondered what Fang had done. Maybe it was something like how he had touched her cheeks the other day, _inside_ her pants; that was when she had called out to him threateningly, before sounding like she was regretting her tone of voice and letting him do it further. He wasn't quite sure, but it seemed like it must've been _something_ really bad. The rest of the kids were thinking so too, but they had even less of a clue than he did. At least he had a _clue_, ad nauseum..

Afterall.. the other day, when they were in Fang's room, they had been talking about how nice Max's tits were, and he hadn't told Fang that he had been getting really swollen penises whenever he kept thinking about those thoughts over and over again. Regardless Fang had said that he agreed with him too, about her body. If anything, Fang sounded a lot more (weirdly, strangely) _knowledgeable_ than on matters about Max like that.

He'd been trying to figure that out for a while now, in fact, about Fang. He seemed.. experienced.. and.. knowing.. and _thats _what was perplexing to him.

He was just.. _perplexed._

He trusted him though. Iggy trusted Fang, that day that Max had started bleeding out of her crotch—he had trusted him, no matter how much he didn't want to. He knew that Fang knew a lot more about certain things than he did, but he didn't quite know how.

He didn't know what to think of it, he supposed. Afterall, Fang and Max were in a type of relationship that no one could get in between, which was probably why they fought so often. It was a private relationship, sort of secretive, to keep things from the kids, although he, Iggy, was let in on it at times. After all, the things were between the leader and second-in-command; oldest after all of them, and in charge of things around here. He was aware of the fact that they had a lot more stress on their shoulders than he'd ever be able to comprehend. After all, they were two thirteen year old kids trying to raise some kids, and a blind guy.

He got the feeling Fang didn't help sometimes, sort of like when he ditched the kids and them for an entire month basically, that time before. But he couldn't help it, Iggy supposed. The guy had some problems, and he was going through some weird stuff he couldn't comprehend at that time. That was precisely _why_, Iggy was just _perplexed _these days, by him.

Thoughtfully, he considered the issues Max had as well. Her personality was flitty, and flighty, she could snap at any moment, and these days, you always had to sit on the edge of your seat around her. It seemed that stress was hard to cope under, he realized, recently noticing the odd behavioral habits Max and Fang were having, and going through. He could barely understand or get _either_ of them nearly in the slightest for the past half-year, and according to what Max had recently done to Fang, neither could he to her. It was like they were keep some big, gigantic secret in store for the rest of them, and were having a horribly hard time coping and dealing with it, finally cracking under the pressure.

Maybe his imagination was getting too creative here, he absentmindedly wondered. Nevertheless, the stress was really getting to them. They had started to even hate eachother now, as if it was _really that_ hard.

Regardless, he'd wondered what Fang had done to Max, and when he'd gotten the chance to do so. It sounded like, to him, that it was something that had been going on for a while, and that Max had finally just become fed up with him and exploded, throwing him an ultimatum to _keep him out. _Funny though, since it was contrary to the way they'd been acting recently with eachother the days prior—perfectly, utterly, fine. Perfect. It was almost unnerving how _fine-ly perfect_ they'd been.

His mind trailed back to the thought of Fang and his _'experienced' knowledge_ that he hadn't been quite sure of. Somehow, the issue of boundaries coming up reminded him of that curious wonderment he had gotten once Fang had adamantly, simply agreed with him that day on his bed, about Max's tits. Honestly said, he couldn't quite say much, considering he was only surprised at the type of response he'd gotten from Fang—Fang hadn't been the slightest bit surprised at what Iggy had confided in him about—Fang had been, absolutely, totally, completely blasé about it.. almost nearly as if he had expected it.

Afterall, Iggy, himself, had only felt up Max and her chest, up and down, that day on a picnic months ago. Since then, he had just brushed up against her sometimes, and thats when he'd get a thrill, he'd been noticing clearly these days. He'd noticed they'd gotten bigger, and nicer, and softer.

Fang had clearly seen when he'd slid his hands up her shirt and felt around her breasts, months ago. He'd seen clearly when Iggy had brushed up against Max by '_accident'_, or felt up around her, since Iggy usually did it in front of others, all the more an '_accident,_'; when someone else would be near, Max would look past it as nothing in the spur of the moment, busied, by people around them. She'd look past it as nothing, quickly, busy with other stuffs, but Iggy would be reveling in that quick feeling, in that quick as thunder sensation, lasting in his mind, for restless moments to come.

Girls.. were _supposed _to have tits.. it was just about time, sooner or later, that Max would start having them too.. Iggy knew. It was just _surprising_, is all that it was. What was more surprising was how his penis would get real swollen and impatient, and he'd start jittering, everytime he thought about the new development. But, anyway,

He'd still wondered when Fang had gotten the opportunity to feel her up. Afterall, he, himself, did it right in front of him, and he'd always had basis to do it—checking those little circle dot things on her chest. (Which apparently weren't there anymore, according to Gazzy, and because she wore a bra now, according to Fang). It was within those basis of terms, that Iggy had found out simply how much he had enjoyed it.

And then it suddenly reminded him.. that day, in his room, Fang'd been telling him about curves and stuff and all. Sure, Iggy knew they existed, since he'd run his hands up and down her sides and her body before and all, but besides being just apparent to Fang, how and why had he sounded so.. distant? Like recalling a memory then, precisely.

Regardless.. about her room.. maybe, maybe Fang had gone into her room, and just casually felt her down in her sleep or something, just casually, as they were sitting down and talking.

The thought suddenly struck him, **horribly**. Fang wouldn't do that.. would he..? Especially if he knew if she didn't want him to.. right? Fang.. wouldn't do that, right? Max would get mad.. _really _mad if she didn't want him to.

Like.. like she was _now_. But it still didn't make sense to him, Iggy thought.

It seemed like their argument had Max exploding loudly over something that had been going on for ages, that she was fed up with. That, didn't make sense with the way Iggy's thoughts were rolling now—Max would definitely say something _quickly_ if she didn't like it, and make it just stop, instead of just distinctly _dealing_ with it.. waiting to be fed up and then exploding later. Fang.. Fang wasn't stupid either—he'd definitely stop something if he got the feeling it'd end up in something bad. This.. this was bad. So what was the problem? What had been the issue? It was so hard to figure out right now, that Iggy didn't feel like he had _any _semblence of fixing it. Nothing, either, seemed typical of them, to end up in this situation.. the situation itself was typical—the fight—but not the circumstances in which it was held. Piecing together the issues seemed to be a trifle.

The other day Fang had been laughing and chuckling over some 'sexist pig' stuff that Max had apparently started going on. From what Iggy knew from Fang, she'd apparently overheard them talking about her tits and stuff, and she'd gotten adamant and angry about how to treat _woman_, and stuff. Something called Fang and him being sexist, and pigs about it too..? Honestly, it made him laugh too.. though, still, he still didn't quite get _why _he seemed to be so entranced by the features of her new body nowadays and all.

He looked past it though, and wasn't about to touch her at all, even _remotely_, in the _slightest, anytime _soon. He might be lecherous, and he might be a pig, but hell if he was stupid. He could overhear Gazzy grunting as Max went through some kicking and punching drills with him, helping training him. He wasn't stupid.. he _knew_ Max could hurt him, _awful. _Afterall, he'd seen what Max did to Fang in that hallway that day.

And to be honest, _everyone_ was surprised that Fang had had the audacity to fight back.. That.. that was something _no_ one _ever _did—Max was the leader, and it _stayed _that way.

But he guessed that Fang had been really angry too, and so, returned it.

Although, the kids were traumatized, and Iggy had tried to best to calm them all down. Angrily, he noted how Fang and Max completely looked past the kids when they were consumed in their own little fights. In all their little bickering and arguing and leaderness-deciding arguments, all in their little tiny world of their own, they neglected to see the fact that Iggy was completely left to deal with the kids all alone, while they were having their beautiful, angsty little arguments.

Not that _this_ argument was little of course. It seemed pretty damn serious. Max seemed to have been seething angry, as if Fang had violated her in some—_every _way. And Fang had seemed to be really angry too.. but more like, frustrated at her, for being who she was being.

Regardless, until a few days ago, they'd never fought that way in front of the kids. Not _that_ way—they usually just bickered casually in front of the children. Only Iggy had truly seen the sweat and tears that shedded constantly in the relationship between them, and only _he_ would understand how hard it was to watch two kids strain to grow up faster than their ages demanded of them, overcome with things they don't understand at every step of the way. It was hard for him to watch them, but there was nothing he could do, cause in many circumstances, it was him too, that had done growing, simply just by watching them. As they grew, he grew too.

It was angsty—it was _emotional—_that was the relationship that Max and Fang had. There was no way to get out of that endless circle either, put into a situation like they had been in, coping for the past nearly-two years; put in charge of raising four singular kids, while still not fully grown themselves. They were taking things step by step and trying to figure things out as they went along and thats the way it was—hard, angsty, sweat, blood, tears shed. It was _emotional_ between them. It was funny how blind they were to their conflicting emotions as well. All they did was cry, and cry, and not know why. Figuratively, of course, Iggy reminded himself.

They'd fought alot—they'd gone physical, emotional, _mental_, with eachother. Iggy had been there to witness it all, but it was killing him that he didn't know what was _wrong _right now, between them. It seemed like a serious one. What had _gone_ wrong.. with Max and Fang..? It had always been just _something gone wrong_. Thats how their entire lives and all of their disagreements and tears shed were under.. just.. _things _gone wrong. Their lives.

The kids had _never_ seen Fang strike Max before, not in the way that he had done in the hallway. Iggy had wished Nudge had been near him, so that he could cover her eyes from the sight, but she had been all the way down the opposite side of the hallway, watching from the stairs. He had quickly closed Gazzy's ears once he had gotten ahold of what the situation was like, giving Angel a stern look to quickly look away (which of course, was lost on her), but they'd still all gotten the gist of the idea—Fang was angry at Max, and Max was angry at Fang, and then Fang had struck her. The end. That was all they had needed to see, and the big old bruise on the inside of Fang's shin, all purple and red and blue.

Those kids, although they knew deep inside that Fang was stronger than Max, they'd never let it show. That was precisely why they'd been so scared when they'd seen Fang strike Max. They _all knew _that Fang was a lot stronger than Max, that Fang had always kept himself from showing it before them. Everyone could just tell by means of assumption. They all knew the amount of respect Fang held for Max, and that even if he had been the oldest, he would've still let Max be the leader. Fang wasn't the leader-type; god knows he messed up the few times he'd had to try. Max _was_ the leader.. so Fang had always refrained from showing the kids just how strong he was, just to establish authority over the place.

They.. they were just worried.. The flock _knew_ he was stronger, and even though he had never physically let it show through, they _just knew. _The only problem was, that _Max_ didn't know.. that, since the years they've sparred together, Fang had gotten _much_ stronger, in the time gap.

They wouldn't care if Max threw a punch at him, cause they knew _he could take it_. Iggy and the kids all knew that he could, and _would _take her hits, if he had to. Thats what he was there for, second-in-command, ready to take any hits of frustration, to be a cushion to her. On some level, all the kids knew about that part of their relationship--but only on _some_ level; it was not something they distinctly acknowledged or addressed, but it was a slight inkling obvious to everyone. But they also all knew that Max could just as easily bruise with a shove from him. They knew that Fang wouldn't even show a hint of an utterance, when on the receiving end of thirty-five possible ones of hers'. They wouldn't hurt him, perhaps just mildly peeve him. He'd _take_ them. But.. he'd gotten angry that day, when he'd thought he hadn't deserved it.. when he'd heard her screaming her ultimatum at him.

They all _knew _he was stronger.. which is why they were so scared when he had gotten angry and shoved her to the floor. The _fact _that he'd been touching her harshly, in any way.. was astounding. The fact that he _didn't_ take her hits, but given her some back.. _in front of them_, it was astounding. It was almost nearly, goddamned unforgivable, to the kids, at least. Afterall, they'd never seen the fights Max and Fang had when they were younger; Fang had always been restrained, always her silent protector, to them.

They didn't see the blood, sweat and tears, shed in the relationship between them. That, at heart, they were just equals, under a guise of masculinity and machismo, keeping everything together for the sake of the kids: Because Max was leader, she was always right, and always the strongest. Because Fang was younger, he _listened _to her because she said so. That was the way it was supposed to make sense to the kids; they didn't witness the blood, sweat, and tears, and they didn't see the defiance, raw _effort, _or the emotion underneath. They didn't see the fights.

They didn't know that Max truly had no control over Fang or what he did. Fang made sure to make it seem like she did, he was obedient to her, mainly a front for the kids. It was more like Fang was doing her a _favor_ by listening to her. Fang knew the kids needed a leader, and he knew Max was the one they needed, so he listened, and pretended, for them—and for her. But deep, deep inside, Fang was his own person, and didn't need a leader.. He got angry, had control over things, and over himself.

Iggy.. had tried to cover their eyes—he had wished he could cover their eyes from that sight, because _that_ was something they _didn't need to see_. They truly, honestly, didn't need to see Fang and Max fight with one another for unknown reasons, but for real reasons. They truly, honestly, didn't need to see how much _control _Fang held over himself, and what could happen if he suddenly decided to let go of his inhibitions. Wrought distraught, it would simply destroy the flock, Iggy and Fang both knew.

Iggy was mad, he was certainly mad, once he had realized what had happened—how _reckless_ were they? To fight so that the kids could see? _The kids didn't need to see_. And now, their view of Max and Fang, would never be the same. Now.. now, they were just human, and Fang.. was just his own person.

They didn't ever see Fang make Max see she was wrong, and they didn't see how angry she'd get, how they'd fight, coming to angst-ridden standstills before relenting. Their relationship.. it was _hard_, and it was all for the sake of keeping the flock together. Because, because no matter how hard she tried, Max couldn't do this herself. Fang was always there, supporting her, leading her the right way, making the moral decisions black and white, and helping her along the way.

They didn't know.. that there was breakable Max, with emotion underneath, confused, and tired, and sometimes damn near suicidal. They didn't know that Fang was probably more of the leader of this flock than they'd think, cause he was there, late at night, to help her stand up on her feet.

The only problem was that.. _they were still just kids_. Same kids, with same everyday problems, and the problem was that there was just so much blood sweat and tears between them was _because _they were _just _kids.

Max was stubborn, and Fang was headstrong. Max, was leader, and Fang was quiet. There were differences between them, and it didn't create rifts in the situation they were in, but it caused unavoidable problems in their relationship. Because despite the fact that Fang was quiet, he was also headstrong, and despite the fact that Max was leader, she was also stubborn. Those two things tended to clash.. their singular personality traits simply conflicted together, when combined. But they wouldn't be able to survive without one another, Iggy knew. They depended on one another, they _relied_ on one another.

It was Max, Iggy realized, that didn't exactly register a small fact about Fang like the kids did—she'd still be willing to take him on, completely unrestrained, not knowing that he could completely pin her down and kill her, and the kids were scared to death for something like that to happen because they all knew that Fang would be able to do it, in a fight like that. They all knew that Fang would never do it, because he loved Max, but the fact was that he _had_ the skill and ability to do it. Max, herself, hadn't assessed his level of strength in recent times, and they all knew that it would be _bad_ if they fought. Fang had an immeasurable amount of respect for Max.. but when he lost it—he really _lost_ it. He was insanely tolerant, and it'd grown over the years with the onset of maturity and responsibility, but the kids had never seen them the way that Iggy had before—as equals.. when they were.. kids.

Now.. they were more like adults, and it was the way they acted. They did it for the kids. They did it cause they knew they had to.

Sometimes though, sometimes, it broke through, like it had the other day.. That in end, beyond their entire guise, their assumption of responsibility, assumed in front of the kids, breaks. It was an accident that day, and they hadn't meant to fight in front of the kids.

It must've been really bad then, Iggy thought, if they couldn't hold it in and restrain themselves then. It.. must've been a _really_ bad situation, then, if they couldn't even control themselves in front of the kids.. and afterall, Iggy knew that _they _were top priority to them. To overlook the kids.. was a major deal. He wondered what type of shit had been going on between the two of them for them.. for _so _long, for them to get _so _uncontrolled. Things like that, didn't _just suddenly_ happen; it was building up to a climax for a _while _now.

One thing was for sure now. The kids would never be the same right now, after this—for this first time, _they knew_, and it was hitting them _hard_, that in the end, Max and Fang.. were both just kids, trying to raise themselves and raise _them._ Fang had a temper, and he got angry, and they finally knew, _how _angry he could really get. Max was a girl, and she got emotional, and they finally saw.. they finally saw.. how their relationship _really_ was. For the the kids, things would never be the same for them. Their view of Max and Fang as the oldest, pacifistic and peaceful, the decision-making leaders, who got along well together, was just tainted.

Now, afterall, they were _just human_, 98% afterall, but still, regardless, human.

Iggy was the only one that day who hadn't been instantly surprised, traumatized, and shocked. He knew it from the first place, how those two had dramatically changed once Jeb had left. They'd changed, for a front in front of the kids, but deep inside, they were still just the same. It just leaked through sometimes.. They were themselves when they were alone, together, and they hadn't meant to act that way in front of the kids.

They were separated in ways, by now, the age they were in now, coupled with their circumstances. They hadn't sparred together in ages, since they were like, 11. Back then, they were immature, careless, and unrestrained. It was just the two of them going at eachother, bruised and scruffed up bad daily, bandages all over one day and off the other, only to try again. Since then, Jeb had left, Max had taken on more responsibilities around the house, and it'd just been Iggy going against Fang. Fang went on with Iggy in consideration to his level, while Max was getting busied with starting to teach the younger kids how to spar. Thats why Iggy had never actually gotten all that good in combat, and thats why they all had assumed Max had fallen back a little bit, while Fang had used the spare time to continue training.

The separation, perhaps, is what held Fang to assume his responsibilities. He knew, now, the role he had to play, for her. He had understood a lot from Max and the way they were acting, perhaps even more. Fang stayed silent then, the childish fights decreasing between the two of them, wrought silent because of the more serious matters they knew they were in charge of now. He stayed silent and supportive, because he knew it was what she needed. Somehow, Iggy noticed carefully, Fang may have even matured more than Max—he was the one to take the hits, to let her go at him in frustration, cause he knew that was what she needed. In many ways, Fang had risen up from the immature, scruffy little kid he had been, in just a month, gained a level of knowledge no one would be able to understand, within the month he had refused to come out of his room, once Jeb had left. Max had always been the older one, the leader one, but now.. afterwards, Fang had matured, it seemed _more_ than she had. And so, they stopped fighting like that, in front of the kids. They were no longer kids anymore to do so, cause they knew now they had a flock to support. Fang _knew_, he had Max to support, so she could support the kids.

He knew, and he accepted, got his anger under control, serious matters sitting on his shoulders, beyond trivial ones. He was no longer childish about things.. but mature.. rational. He.. dealt with Max, because he knew how to. And perhaps, on some level, all the kids knew about the significance too, Iggy guessed. It was on the same level they all knew Fang was stronger, but would never admit it. They all knew Fang was a lot to Max. On some level, they also knew how much control Max had over him. On some level, they all knew a bit of everything, but they'd never let it show. The whole premise was to show a normal life to the kids, and thats what Fang wanted, and what he protected her for.

Fang had recently offered Iggy weights, to work out with, but he'd politely declined. Iggy didn't really know why he should bother. Regardless, Fang still pushed himself, hard, for a reason Iggy didn't quite know why. Max.. however, was just _busy_ these days, although they all knew she was pretty skilled in herself, in hand-to-hand combat. Nevertheless, she was still quite.. reckless.. especially, in matters with Fang.

It seemed like Max and Fang just had a lot of misunderstanding between them, but not in actual matters of _things—_in matters of actually _understanding_ one another; motives, and feelings, wants, and desires, and _honesty. _Hell, Iggy was pretty much sure that he even understood Max and her feelings _a lot_ better than Fang did although it felt like he _knew_ a lot less about her than Fang. Maybe that was the reason Fang _got _less.

She didn't quite know him anymore. He didn't quite know what to do with her anymore. It was all very frustrating to them.. it was all quite confusing, to them _and_ to Iggy.

On some level, Iggy felt a certain responsibility to keep them together too.. Afterall, he was still one of the older kids, and he took charge around things in the house too.. But Max and Fang fighting, it was like, ruining it all.

He ever wondered what Fang had done to her, to make her want to make sure he never went into her room, ever again.

He knew that Fang wasn't a _bad_ person, and would normally listen to what Max would tell him, unless he didn't like it. But commands like, "stop," were normal and casual, and direct, and Fang would just _stop_ if she told him to. Especially if it was concerning _her_. How far could he have gotten to get her mad, and then why would Max get mad if she didn't ask him to _stop_ doing anything? She usually _knew _what she liked and what she didn't. There wasn't any confusion.

Iggy was still trying to figure this out, and figure their fight out, cause whether they were aware of it or not, it was wreaking havoc on the kids. Nudge was scared to death, and Angel had on a look of worry on her face that a five-year-old shouldn't ever really have. Gazzy was just plain quaking, and couldn't focus on just about anything at all, completely scarred and disbelieving at how disappointed he could be at one of his idols, Fang, for doing that to Max. The Gassers couldn't believe that Fang had shoved her to floor like that, could lean over her that threateningly, and whisper mean words into her ear. He couldn't _believe_ one of his biggest idols had ever done that. He couldn't believe Max had just lain there weakly, lying against him. He couldn't _believe Fang_ had done that to her. All he felt like he had left now, was Iggy.

It was an act of trauma and personal, personal desire and terror, that no one should really be able to witness, Iggy worded grimly. He was just about positive about how _awful _it must've looked to the kids.. Fang, bent over and leaning over Max, inundating her completely on the floor, his mouth close to his ear, his voice deep, low, rough, and his eyes flaming in anger. Max, her face red, and flushed, looking up defiantly, tears threatening to spill over, looking up at him angrily. The fighting, the screaming, the backs turned, while the chops and the hits, and the kicks thrown consecutively, all laced with crude words. Ow.

Talk about _hate_.

It was all angst ridden and bitter and stuff too.. all the more better, he thought exasperatedly. The kids hadn't needed to see what they did.. they were terrified now.

They were all pretty much on the nerve of hating Fang right now, but still torn and confused, desperately trying to convince themselves that what they'd seen hadn't been true, and that Fang really wasn't like that, and that Max really didn't hate him, and that everything would've been patched up soon and fixed eventually.

They were praying to god—the same god that had given them two hands and two feet, and ten fingers and ten toes on each of their tiny little feet. The same god that had given them a life, and the same god that _hadn't _grafted wings onto their backs. Not the men who had tortured them for the early years of their lives, but the god that had given them life, to breathe fresh air and survive and die, free from cages—they were praying to that one.

Iggy let out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. They'd better fix things up, real quick. The kids couldn't stand Max and Fang hating eachother, and honestly, neither could he, although Max and himself were fine right now. (For the exception of the extra-careful non-touching no-contact matter he was making sure to enforce).

Somehow, in the back of his mind, for some reason, he felt like taking Max's side too though, along with the kids. Although he wasn't surprised by what Fang had did, he got the feeling that it was one of the reasons that made Max want to cry.. that Fang wasn't even aware.

Because Iggy didn't really know what Fang had done, but got the feeling that it wasn't anything very good.

For Max.. not to want him in her room anymore.. was a _big _deal. He wondered if it was anything having to do with the fact that she was such a.. _girl_ now, but he pushed it aside.. It was Max, _Max_ afterall—boobs and curves or not, soft butt or whatever, it was _still_ Max. How much nerve did Fang have with her? Fang knew her limits best of all, out of anyone. So what could he have possibly have done to get himself banished from her room completely..? Iggy amended that Fang _had_ to fix this up.

Whatever he did, no one was on his side now, for the scene that they'd seen in the hallway. The flock was insanely defensive about their flock leader, regardless of whether or not they loved Fang too. It was just.. just _wrong_ to see Fang treat Max that way. It was okay for Iggy—he got it, and understood their long, complex, messed-up relationship, sort of—but not for the younger kids. All they'd seen was Fang wind Max, thoroughly. They'd never ever seen Fang and Max behave any remotely that way, and it was a glimpse into how angsty their relationship truly was. It was a glimpse, and they didn't want to see what was behind the rest of it.

Truth be told, neither did Iggy. He got the feeling, that it was something, to be very, very afraid of.

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A/N:

Eh. Long Iggy rant.

It explains a lot, but probably does not satiate you guys. Don't worry though, the rest of the actual Iggy-ness questions will be answered soon too..

So, you know I hate, like, recurring angst, so this'll end pretty soon.. and then we'll get to sweet, sweet, good again.. soon. I promise. If I ever get that far, before I get bored and lazy again..

Max and Fang do fight a lot.. this is an awkward stage in their lives, you know what I mean? _Adolescence is an awkward stage in life.. _hence the misunderstandings_.._ its all angsty.. thats also a whole part of my plot, so poooo if you don't like it. Hm.. Meanwhile, Iggy is all confused, but laid-back, and chill, and slightly worried, like the cool person that he is ;]

Don't worry.. he wont _stay _that way.. *coughcough* How long can you _really_ keep Iggy confused and clueless, eh? ;]

Anyway.. review.. -- peace outt.


	27. Realization

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

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Chapter Twenty-Seven**: Realization

Fang was waiting.

He was sitting in a dark corner of a large room, right against the small closet pushed against the side of Max's room.

He was sitting like he usually was—or had been—for the past five days or so.

Max had told him to never _ever_ go into her room again. So that was precisely what he had been doing. He'd been camping out in her room, in the shadows of the corners, every night—just to secretly piss her off—to show her that she _wasn't_ in charge of him.

In retrospect, it was probably a stupid way of action considering he wanted to fix things again, but he didn't really seem to care or think twice about it.

Honestly, he didn't even really know what he did wrong.

Well, he knew he touched her stuff, but anyone could touch Max's stuff. She wasn't a private person, and no one in the flock was a private person. Being a private person generally defeated the purpose of a _flock. Duh._

Anyway, maybe it was this whole puberty thing that was going on. God knows it was wreaking havoc on the flock—obviously. No one could possibly say there were ever this many problems in the flock beforehand, not even when Jeb had left.

At least when Jeb had left, things had gone smoothly and efficiently; there had been some progress.

This situation right here, right now, was just icky and messy. There were a lot of communication issues.

Fang tended to blame all of them on Max. Though in retrospect, he wasn't willing to share a lot of facts himself, though he felt no need to.

So there he was, crouching down with his knees up in front of him, sitting in a corner of Max's room. He'd been doing it every night, since she'd exploded on him.

He'd just stay there, watching her, silently defying her, before he'd nod his head down and fall asleep sitting up too. He'd get up and get out of her room every morning before she got up and go back to his room to sleep well into the afternoon on an actual bed. He did it every night, just to piss her off.

To say, _'hah, i'm in your room anyway,'_ that was the reason. Or so he thought; or so the first reason had been.

Now.. he was just here out of curiosity.

Because, sometimes Max would tremor. Sometimes he'd observe her.. doing things.

Well, no, it was just recently, he affirmed in his head.

The third night he'd been in her room, she'd.. she'd decided to do.. something.

She stuck her fingers in her pants and rubbed up and down.

But a while later, she immediately got up from her bed, threw her covers off quickly and ran to the bathroom to vigorously scrub her hands with soap. As if she had been disgusted by it and what she was doing.

When she had come back into her room, she had tightly tucked herself underneath the blankets and resolutely closed her eyes shut, determined to fall dead asleep any second.

Fang had found it interesting. He hadn't been sure that day if that was what she had been doing, since all he could see from underneath the dark shadows were the rustling and moving underneath the dark covers, but by the fourth day, he was sure.

On the next day, Max had tried it again. But instead though, she had thrown her covers off and laid up on the bed ontop of her blankets.

For a while, she had just stared up at the ceiling from ontop of the blankets, her hands overlapping ontop of her abdomen, wide awake. Fang watched her curiously.

And then, slowly, silently, her knees came up and her thumbs pushed the waistband of her pajamas up her thighs so that they bunched up on her knees, bent up above the bed.

Her butt and her torso still lay flat on the bed while her knees had been up, the waistband up too.

Closing her eyes tightly, almost timidly, Fang had noted, she began to creep her fingers down to her frisky vulva. The hairs had grown a few milimeters since Fang had shaved her several days over.

Her eyes were closed, and somehow, just watching her, Fang felt himself grew hard in his pants—which was a difficult thing, considering he was crouched over in a corner of the room, Max completely oblivious to his quiet presence there.

Eyes wide, Fang continued to stare, completely mesmerized by the hesitant, timid expression in her crinkled and shut-tight eyelids, her wavering hands.

But finally, they found her vulva, and they probed around, wonderously curiously.

It was very disorganized, unfashioned, messy, pointless—Fang noted, comparing it to that one time he'd seen Brigid touch her genital regions.

She had jacked off herself, Fang knew now, with her fingers. It had felt good to her.

Fang wondered.. if maybe that was what Max was curious about. Probably.

Somehow, it began to annoy him to watch her like that, for so long. Probing, wondering, but doing nothing pointedly..

Especially.. since she seemed so.. needy. She just didn't know how to do it.

And she was mad cause he had made her feel good the few times he'd ever touched her there—feel her, just marginally, but still okay.

And seriously, Fang asked himself, he was being ostracized for this? Because she was moody and angsty and PMS-y because she was angry that she liked what he was doing?

No.. it was because she was confused. Because above it all, Fang realized, Max will still a child in many a sense. And so was he.. he was just more knowledgeable, self-admittedly mature.

Max still needed help. She still needed someone to cry on the night where it got too tough. She still needed a shoulder to lean on, someone to help her cook. All she was good at was exuberating confidance.. the rest.. was up to Fang and Iggy.

He suddenly then, had changed his mind. He was no longer mad at Max, he decided, as he watched her timidly and unassuredly probe and explore her own vulva. Max was just confused, and although she would never learn anything from him letting her get her own way all the time, Fang conceded that it was something he'd just have to do.

He.. he loved her, he realized, because he always let her have her way. He'd always be there for her, at beck and call, and because he tolerated her and her moving feelings.. he loved her.

He was a child, but so was she, and he felt like he needed to protect her.

It was then that he realized the meaning behind all that had been bothering him for weeks prior; wondering about Angel and Nudge and Gazzy, and how he wanted to hold her in the way that he could hold and protect them, but why he just couldn't.

That was the answer: he loved Max. Not as a child, but as women.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to make her feel good. It hurt him to see her cry. It made him ache so deeply, so miserably, inside, when she frowned. He loved her.

That was the answer.

And all this time, he'd been confused about what and why he was feeling this way about her. Why she seemed to be beautiful in everything that she did. Why was it like that? Because he loved her.

He watched her gasp as her finger rubbed over one spot on her vagina, and she ran over it again, seeming to love the feeling. She did it over and over again, until the entire room was filled with gasps. Fang stared on, his face withdrawn, his mouth sullen. His pants were tight, and the gasps weren't helping him, but the realization had just hit him—he loved her.

That was why he wanted to feel her, to touch her, to make her his own.

But that was the problem—he _couldn't_, and he knew it all too well.

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The entire day afterwards that fourth night, he had been mulling in his head about what to do about her. He wasn't quite sure.

On one hand, there was this deep, burning, intense desire to touch her, to feel her, to make her feel good even also especially because she _wanted_ to feel good (evidenced by what he had witnessed the previous night). It sort of made him feel good to know that he knew how to make her feel good, when she was aching with the need—or so it had seemed last night.

She hadn't gotten there, or so he thought. At some point, her fingers had seemed to have become tired out, but she hadn't gotten anywhere past stark breaths of surprise, discovery, and a mixture of pleasure/pain. She hadn't reached orgasm, he was pretty sure. And no wonder, considering it wasn't an easy thing to do, from what he knew. It took practice, evidenced by Brigid.

But he had done it to Brigid once or twice—sort of—cause she had been very compliable and done half of it herself anyway.

The entire day, he had been mulling it over. He loved her, but didn't want to touch her.

No—who was he kidding?--he _so_ _wanted_ to touch her, but knew he couldn't. His mind was torn.

Cause the fact of the matter was, that Fang knew he had made a mistake. 13-year-olds weren't supposed to have sex. 13-year-old _girls_ were not supposed to have sex. They were not supposed to see or touch hard penises, jack someone off, or play with guys. It just was not right. There was no level of maturity involved in it, and no level of real understanding.

He couldn't coax Max into doing something like that stuff, because it was bad, and he shouldn't be doing it anyway. And also, _what if she got pregnant? _

So that was the point. Not only were they not mature enough, they weren't old enough, and they shouldn't be doing anything. He shouldn't be touching her in her private places—he shouldn't even be probing her vagina and offering to shave her.

But he already had. And done it.

What was wrong with him? He rubbed his scalp wondering. Oh yeah. He was a pre-teenage guy. That was the answer. A pre-teenage guy whos perverse already sexually active.

One whose living in the same house as the girl he's _in love with_ and wondering how to not push her buttons.

It was hard, it was _so_ hard, especially considering the fact that _if he wanted to_, he could. Because the fact of the matter, was that Max hardly even really even knew better. If _he wanted to_, they could _be_ with eachother. Max could do it; he could do it; the situation was totally right; it was totally easy--he could do it.

He loved her out the will of her heart, and that had nothing to do with his sexual curiosity. But the problem was that if he were to act on how much he liked her.. those things might come out. He had no desire to start a relationship that was taboo.

He was _trying_ to establish some semblence of modernity in their household. So what if they were completely isolated from the real world? _He_, unlike Max and Iggy, was the one who would totally be up for moving into town, surrounded by other people.

In that respect, doing something so awfully _un_societal, like having two hormonal sexual teenagers having sex in the same house and engaging in sexual behavior, would be _so_ awfully _un_societal.

It would defeat the whole purpose and point of everything. Then, they really _would_ be like cavemen.

That was the rational side of things.

The other side of his split mind was screaming at him and telling him quietly, softly, but coaxing him gently into being convinced that it didn't matter.. that they didn't live with the outside world anyway.. that Max would feel _so_ happy, and _so_ good.. that _he_ could make Max feel good.

That the whole point of puberty was to become able to see and _feel _ good.

The other half was telling him that if Jeb were here, nothing like this could have ever happened.

Only for the other side to respond that Jeb is a useless prick, unreliable and completely emotionally detrimental to society, and that they should do whatever they wanted to. Whatever they _could_.

So that what was going through his head as Fang sat there, on the fifth night in her room.

He had no surprise that she would explore again tonight, probably even more curious after yesterday night had shown her some pleasures and left her completely unsatiated and curious.

Quiet in the darkness, he stared at her and sighed quietly. It was then that she started to slip her underwear down again. She turned her torso to the side to angle her body more, so that her fingers could reach further in, so that her back was facing him now.

He stared at her back dejectedly, his pants tight, but he ignored it as he stared at her.

It was then that he made up his mind.

Quietly, discreetly, without a sound, just like how he had been hiding in her room for the past night without her knowing, he had gotten up and walked over to the side of her bed. Her back was facing him.

And then, alerting her of his presence, he placed his hand over hers, covering her vagina. She gasped loudly and nearly screamed in anger once she noticed Fang, but then Fang began to automatically rub his finger against her clitoris. It quieted her down as her breaths grew deeper and larger—feeling another, more bigger, more concise hand on her vagina.. was different to her.. it was more stimulating.

Fang breathed a deep sigh of relief in his mind as he watched her soothe down a bit, and continued rubbing the spot on her, slowly getting on the bed beside her to get a better angle.

She had never felt his _raw_ hand on her skin there before, not through underwear, not so pointed and threatening.

Watching her face carefully, her eyes closed and XL shirt clad chest heaving below him, he was entranced, but his unemotional face didn't betray him.

He moved his hand up on her vagina to rock her pelvis back and forth and just get into the feeling of things before he slipped his right index finger back down into her vagina so that it kept tight, pressing deep into her clitoris and providing it the friction she so desperately seemed to need.

And then.. then he gently traveled his middle finger down the slit, slowly watching her reaction as he did it. Her eyes had jolted open as she felt it travel down, and her heartrate grew faster and she looked up and wondered where it was going on her.

She strained to look up at him in the eye, he was hovering over her on his side beside her on the bed, but the shadows covered his face.

In the back of her mind, she could distinctly hear his breathing growing deeper and deeper, and although it was no match for hers, it was a large accomplishment for Fang, who was usually as silent as a countertop.

Fang stared down at her, and felt his own heartrate go up as he watched the facial expressions on her face. Almost as if he could feel the pleasure through his own bones. They were have uncomfortable and half straining. And although he never expected it, it was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen—even better than the porn he'd looked at before.

Max's face, _Max's_ face—the same Max he'd known since birth—was contorted in uncomfortable need.. and it was _him _that was causing it, and it was from _him_ that she needed more and because of _him,_ feeling uncomfortably uncomfortable.

He hooked and curved his two fingers around the side of her vagina wall and she suddenly gasped—audibly, loud, her eyes open wide and she finally looked straight at him to catch his eyes in the dark.

She started whimpering and closed her eyes shut again as she began moving her head slowly from side to side and Fang continued wreaking havoc on the inside of her vagina, curling his fingers up inside her, he watched her keenly. He saw her thrash about on the bed, her waist coming up and down, thrashing about, moving from side to side, as he struggled to keep his fingers inside her, because he knew she wanted them there.

"Stop, Fang, stop—stop, I need to—STOP, FANG," she suddenly started screaming, but Fang knew what she was feeling.

She felt like she needed to pee, but Fang knew and didn't stop. Instead, he rocked her pelvis in deeper_, _harder, because that was what she needed, despite all her thrashing around and feeling like she wanted him to stop, she didn't. He kept his fingers in and started doing it even harder, nearly even groaning as he stared down at her put all his effort into pushing into her deeper, caught in the thrall of the moment and her passionate ecstasy wreaking out of her and her convulsing body beside his own still one.

And suddenly, suddenly she stopped thrashing, and thats when he knew she had reached it. He continued pumping slowly, watching her chest heaving keenly, riding out her orgasm in his hands, to hopefully extend it longer, until she was finally still, and just breathing deeply.

Her chest was heaving, and Fang stopped moving his fingers in her vagina, still keeping them in there as he watched her.

With his fingers in her vagina, he stared down at her. Catching her breath a little more, after a while, she turned to look up at him too.

After a while, she began to feel hypersensitive of the feeling of his fingers. She felt them in there, still, but remaining there.

The light and the shadows loosened up a bit, and Max could finally look up to his eyes and see the dark shadow of his face. He stared down at her mercilessly, his hands still in her vagina.

"Did that feel good?" he asked her quietly.

Still staring up at him, from her head on her pillow, she nodded, her eyes still a bit glazed.

For some reason, Fang looked away. He slipped his fingers out of her moist vagina, and she felt the presence leave her. And then he looked away, and sighed, deeply.

He knew what he had done, but it had simply had been impulse. He didn't regret it, since he'd wanted to. But.. still. He couldn't help but ask what he was doing.

What was he doing?

In the midst of his thoughts, a quiet voice broke out from the distance.

"Yeah, I liked it," Max said quietly. She was looking right at him, even though his head was turned away.

Perhaps it was just her voice that had resolved his mind, but he had compromised.

It was okay to do this to her. As long as it didn't get too far, and as long as it didn't get too bad.

She liked it.. he liked it.. and it wasn't.. anything bad, was it?

As long as.. they didn't have sex, that was alright.. They were two hormonal kids living in the same house. Not only that, but he _loved_ her. She probably didn't love him back, he was pretty sure, in the same way that he did her, but regardless, he _loved_ her, and they were two and hormonal.

It was okay.. just as long as they didn't have sex.

_That _would definitely fuck things up.

Surprisingly enough, admist all the thoughts and feeling running through his head that day and this morning, he was too busy worrying about his decisions on the girl he loved, to be even happy that she didn't feel like killing him right now.

He'd come to a decision, that it'd be alright, as long as he kept to the decisions he'd made and followed the rules he'd set.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hey. So sorry if this chapter sucked. I havent written this story for months, so like, I'm still trying to get a feel back for it, if ya know what I mean.

Hopefully the chapters will progress in quality as I am reminded of the plot points and major driving substances. I dunno.

I'm actually looking more in developing my other story, Something Gone Wrong, so like, yeah, sorry if this is lacking something right now.

Anyway, I'm trying to go back and remember the plots I had in store for this story, but its hard, cause its changed so many times, cause scenes have run out of my control so many, many, _many_ times. -.-

Anyway.. so sorry for this crappy chapter. I actually just sort of forced myself to write it, I didn't really want to, so I don't think I really did it any justice. Next to that, its completely unrevised, so yeah, no surprise. I don't really know if I want to keep writing this story, and this is for like the 4th time.

Therefore, reviews mean chapters, so I hope you review, and maybe I'll get inspiration enough to continue this story (and actually hopefully continue it _well_).

hm.. so review.


	28. The Point We've Come To : Arc III

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms? _

* * *

**  
Chapter Twenty-Eight**: The Point We've Come To

"Ugh.. uh, ugh, uh, ah, ah—"

Fang's fingers were humping Max on her bed. She was making all those noises and breathlessly breathing beside.

She was convulsing and writhing beneath him. The bed was moving up and down, bumping the springs below, as he rammed his fingers into her in and out.

He didn't know why he was doing this like _this_, but she was enjoying it.

So he tried to tell himself that he wasn't imagining her convulsing this way because of his own dick in there instead of his fingers.

He tried to convince himself that he wasn't trying to imagine her writhing beneath him in the same way, through his own dick.

He tried to tell him that he wasn't simulating his fingers the same way his dick would ram into her.

Then why

"UH.. UGH, UGH, uh.. a-AAHH!"

why was he being so rough and enjoying it? "YES! Oh.. oh!" He was enjoying her reactions.

Why was he being so rough then? _Ramming_ into her.

Afterall, it was only his fingers.

Because the fact of the matter was, that they were lying on the same bed while she was having an orgasm. She was trying so hard to reach an orgasm beside him, completely butt-naked in her birthday suit, while he tried desperately to keep control of the situation as he moved his finger up and down her clit and tried to touch her g-spot often as he roughly slammed his four fingers inside and out.

Max liked it rough. Thats what he'd learned.

She lifted her knees up and out so that she was now fetal position, meeting his fingers there at every push, practically begging for it. She was so oblivious to the world around her, and groaning crazily. She was so into it. It was a well-needed break, from her life. And Fang was helping her.

Her dirty-blonde hair was messy and frazzled, obscuring her face nearly completely, and her eyes were squeezed tight in frustration and dear, dear effort as she wriggled around and jumped around on the bed eratically, the center point of all of everything being Fang's fingers touching her vagina.

"Fang.. fang.." she moaned out shallowly, moving her head from side to side, her lower body still in fetal position. Her knees were bent and facing her head, her heels touching tightly, the backs of her thighs . ".. go.. _deeper.." _she instructed him, her eyes closed.

Fang complied.

"Ah—ah—fa-AAAH-ng..." was what he was rewarded with. He swore his swollen erection expanded two inches thicker just at that response.

Why did the girl he like have to be so.. so.. so.. sexy? So hot? So beautiful and gorgeous and erotically stimulating, altogether combined?

He watched her jugs move up and down as he moved her roughly.

A bead of sweat rolled down his face as he took another deep shallow breath, focusing on bringing her to orgasm. He had to put those thoughts out of his head, ignore his tight pants and stiff erection. He was trying so hard, to bring her to orgasm, but half of him was more preoccupied with hearing the noises and ramming his fingers into her, pretending it was his dick that was making those noises

It was his own fault, afterall. He had tacitly made it an unspoken condition that he would only do this to her under the terms that she was _completely_ undressed while he was doing it.

He had no idea why, though, at that moment. Watching her undressed, unclothed body, completely.. something he'd never seen in ages—since they were 6 or 7—was so.. visually, intensely.. utterly distracting.

Did she even know how hot she was?

The surprising thing was that she had generally no qualms about it—about taking off her clothes. He had no thoughts but to assume that she had _no_ idea that he was actually attracted to her body.

So.. so.. _so _attracted..

He took another deep shallow breath. Sweat was accumulating on his forehead as he focused on bringing her to orgasm.

The rough jamming of fingering.. he'd never tried that before until today.. tonight..

Maybe it was because tonight the moon was nearly 6/7s full, and placed directly in front of the window in front of Max's headboard.

Light in the normally dark room of the normally dark nights he got together with her to make pleasure, was now shining directly down onto the length of her bed.. which means he, fully clothed, got to see her _unclothed _body convulse on top his fingers.

He didn't think he'd ever been so turned on in his entire life.

Maybe that was why he was ramming so hard into her.. he was obsessed with imagining her convulsing like his penis were there.. just as that moment.

Her breasts looked so beautiful.. and luscious.

But he couldn't go down and touch one or lick one. That was also against one of the unspoken rules. Her breasts were off-limits. Essentially, _she_ was off limits. He couldn't do anything like brush the hairs ontop of her mound, tickle them, play with them.

He couldn't _play_ with her. That was a rule. _Playing_ and giving _pleasure,_ were two different things.

He could only give her pleasure.. but what he was _really _wanting to do.. was to simply play with her.

It was masochistic, self-depreciating—torturing himself in such a way. Letting her let him do this to her, but not what he wanted to do.. It was downright masochistic.

Until that moment, he hadn't really registered the implications of his rule of having her her fully undressed on the bed in front of him.

All that had been going through his mind when he had decided to implement that, was the thought that maybe one of her erect nipples might accidentally brush against his shirt, just close enough for him to feel it through the shirt and feel the momentary thrill. He hadn't ever.. forseen.. _actually _being able to _see_ her.. although she wasn't doing it adamantly—it was just the light of the moonlight that night, where all of her was exposed thoroughly, as the moonlight shone right down onto the bed.

Either way, she had no shame in retrospect.

She obviously didn't understand that he was _attracted_ to her body, that her body made him want to _do_ things on himself and to her. Things were as natural for her as the birds and the bees. What was there to hide about her body, she'd probably wonder.

_So much_, Fang thought. Theres a lot to keep secret from me, he thought, staring down at her body beneath him.

She arched her back several times like a painful stack, and he knew she came beneath him.

"Ah, ah, ah.." she was saying as she was convulsing. Fang slowly lessened the tight pit deep inside of her and slowly and gently withdrew his fingers.. that had been the deepest he'd ever gone—ever. That was the hardest he'd ever done her—ever.

Damn, he really didn't need to see her body.. it made him feel.. such weird things.

He slowly slipped his fingers out of her tavern and taking a cooling sigh, a deep breath of relief, he leaned back against the headboard, sitting up like he was before, but not bending over her. She was lain down and out on the bed properly, her naked body open and view for the world to see, lighted erotically by the clear, distinct light of the moonlight.

Fang looked away from her and slowly wondered what he'd done.

Why'd he gone so hard on her?

That wasn't fingering, that was.. was..

—was using his _hand _as a _dick._

He hadn't been gently stimulating her.. he'd been _ramming _his hand in her.

Like.. like he was thrusting into her. God, he really _was_ simulating his dick inside her. He furrowed his eyebrows in exasperation and asked, for the 4th time, what was _wrong_ with him?

But.. but she had liked it, he reminded himself.

If she didn't like it, she wouldve thrown a karate chop to his neck and he would've been down and out of her room in a second—like that time, the second time he'd ever come into her room to pleasure her, right after that night he'd first done it, when he'd tried to try some cunnilingus.

She'd sent him through the door when she felt his wet tongue lick her pouty labia lips.

The thought of her labial lips, _moist_, _pink_, thick and _full, _damn near _pouting_ for caressing.. once again brought Fang to an erection. He looked away, hearing Max's loud breathing slowly soften in the distance as he sat beside her laying head.

Max.. was surely a beautiful creature. He'd never realized it before. He'd always just regarded her as that girl. A girl. Flock. Another wing person, of another gender. When had he started to become.. so attracted to her?

He'd never seen her so beautiful before. Its like oneday she'd sprouted idiosyncracies and hid herself away for two years and suddenly came out looking gorgeous. Except, that never happened. She'd always been there, right beside him.

And now she was still there, right beside him, her bosom heaving erotically, the nipples erect, but softening, against her tight abdomen and beautifully glowing skin underneath the moonlight.

Since when had they come to this?—to this point.

To giving and receiving analistic pleasure? To be bouncing up and down on the bed, _thriving_, and wonderment with eachother_. _To be out of breath and _screaming_cause she wanted Fang's fingers to touch her there a bitdeeper.

Since when had they come to this point, he wondered, as he looked over at her still breathing softly beside him, her eyes closed peacefully and relaxedly.

Since when had he ever imagined they'd be pleasuring in _this_ way?

Downright obsessed.. with thriving, and writhing, and convulsing beneath his hands.

He loved it. He loved her. She liked it a lot. She enjoyed it.

But since when?

The implications of ramming his hand into her for the first time ever, made him go through a tangent of a million of thoughts, as he wondered why he had done that.

When he had specifically promised himself he'd keep it strictly for her.. strictly feeling and touching and stimulating _herself_ to orgasm.. not _simulating_ _him_selffor pleasure.

God.


	29. What He Really Wanted

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**: What He Really Wanted To Do

Fang stood by the side silently in the corner of the kitchen. It was his spot to watch over everything like he usually did. He had taken that role on for his own.

The kids around him were cheering and whooping maniacally like how, well, kids _should._

It was a good site to see.. _his _kids. Thats how he saw them—_his _flock. All he tried and cared to do was make them happy.

Though recently, these days, his thoughts had wavered off to other tangents as an equally great and thought-consuming priority overcame him. Namely, Max. Namely, Max and her at night.

That awful, painfully conflicting routine they'd gotten themselves into. Though he couldn't complain, as it was mostly on his part that the blame should be thrust onto, it didn't change the fact that on some level, he regretted it.

Max, didn't let him _touch_ her.

Well, yes she did, in the literal sense. But not in the figurative sense.

Their whole and entire relationship that concerned their habits at night, were simply and utterly based on need—_her _need.

She didn't understand something—_intimacy. _

Well no. She understood intimacy very well; she understood _orgasm_ very well, but not.. affection. She was not privy to his affections, because she would not let him give them to her.

And he wanted to—he sorely, direly, _wanted_ to. What else did you want to do with the girl you loved? You didn't just want to fuck her senseless with your fingers every night and just leave her on the sheets.

He'd jerk himself off; _that_, he could do. But what he couldn't stand was how.. how.. detached she was from him.

It pained him on some level. It hurt him greatly, deeply, on the inside.

The love he had for her surpassed mindless fucking. (They didn't even fuck though.. he just.. was a _companion_ at night).

He hated their messed up, sick, relationship.

He hated it so much because it imposed so many restrictions on _him_.

Though he would always be her right hand man, her dark knight, he hated how much _she_ asserted control over this situation.

He watched her carefully, silently, as she laughed at a joke Iggy had just made. Her face was filled with mirth and the round tops of her cheeks were tinted a light hue of pink in her enjoyment and laughter.

Iggy was standing across from her, two silly cone-shaped hats adorned on each side of his head, looking sheerly but very characteristic of his unanimously dumbass behavior as per his casual seat in the flock. Gazzy was standing between the two of them, wearing a cone-shaped hat of his own, and leaning over the small little round table Fang had set up. The 6-year-old was looking eagerly over the blue and white iced cake standing ontop of it, his eyes alight with joy and mischievousness.

Nudge was all smiles, leaning over the back of the sofa in the living room two feet away from the small table. Angel was sitting beside her, smiling serenely and waiting patiently for Max to cut it.

It was her 14th birthday.

Fang watched over the whole scene speculatively. They all didn't know (except perhaps, maybe Max and Iggy), but he was keeping watch over them.

He did not do it as a simple consequence of responsibility, thrust unto him for being the second-oldest, but because he truly and genuinelly did enjoy watching over everybody.

And he allowed them that freedom—to enjoy, have fun, and be merriful for once without a care—when they needed it. The only reason Max could let go and just be carefree for once with the rest of the flock was because she knew that whether Fang would take her permission or not, he'd be standing in the back, in the corner, his senses tuned to everything around them to make sure they were safe for the passing moment.

It was natural of him; almost instinct, to immediately back away when the flock began to congeal and make one of their unanimous celebrations. Because, of course, one person had to keep watch over the whole entire thing while they had fun.

As for him, he could have fun on his other time—times in which the entire flock was not so heavily unguarded. He would find enjoyment in the quiet moments in which he would spend with Angel sitting on his lap, reading themselves a quiet book in the still of the night on days where she didn't want to fall asleep.

He would allow himself to feel close when Gazzy would come to him for help with something he was too embarrassed to ask anybody else about, like wetting his pants and needing to do the laundry without the others finding out.

He would allow himself his goodnatured fun when he'd be sitting on couch beside Nudge and teasing her on some of her incessant little typical-normal-girl infatuations.

He would allow himself to let go when he'd be helping Iggy with dinner or breakfast, or talking to him about last night's baseball game.

Thats how he had fun. He didn't need to parties to participate in, or group-wide celeberations.

He was more of a one-on-one person, so he didn't really find the joy in hanging up streamers for festive occasions. He didn't realy need to be a part of this celebration, and the flock was accustomed to his absence at these times by now. Besides, he was better off and better needed watching over their entire shinding and making sure they weren't attacked. It was a paranoid little habit, but they knew of the existance of erasers, employed by The Lab.

They were well aware that they technically existed as illegal property that had escaped their cages (literal ones), so it couldn't help to be a little over-prepared at times. Max, on the other hand, thought he was a a little bit too paranoid to think that the scientists and School Lab would come after them to capture them again, but he just shrugged it off when she brought it up and looked past it. He'd rather prefer to watch over the flock anyway. Just to make safe.

And thats exactly where he received his mass multitude of insight nightly. Afterall, keeping watch was a tedious and sensitive thing but he found it a useful skill to be able to multi-task within it. It kept his sense sharp and aware and alert while everything around him moved.

And he could think. _Really_ think.

It was like feeling a zen-state, utter, sheer self-awareness. Pretty cool. Kinda like meditating except.. a lot more paranoid, but whatever. Same difference.

And in the background, while Gazzy blew a loud little party horn in front of her face, Nudge screamed as it furled out right in front of her.

"Eww! Gazzy!"

Angel giggled silently as Iggy quickly grabbed it by fist away from his mouth.

"Hey, c'mon, its Max's birthday today, don't cause any trouble for her!"

Fang almost grinned at that. The chemistry between all of the flock members was undeniable and interesting. And he could always trust Iggy with handling everything.

He frowned at that though. No, Iggy couldn't _completely_ take his place if he were gone.

He looked up to Max, now laughing as Gazzy tried to push a spoon filled with cake into her mouth from his shorter height. It got all over her chin and lips, but she took it in stride and laughed before she licked it all off her upper lip with her top of her tongue.

Fang watched her and somehow felt his throat lose the moisture that so direly defined itself.

His mind now on Max again, he found himself continuing his previous train of thought again.

The distinction between _affection_ and intimacy. That was what she so direly lacked the desire to know. She couldn't distinguish the two. No, Fang amended, she didn't _know_ the meaning of the prior and only _wanted _the latter.

_And she also didn't get that what they were doing was wrong either_, he thought darkly.

* * *

Max licked the cream off her upper lip, wiping it away cleanly in delight. She loved birthdays—cake, cream, soda, and an excuse to let go for once.

And above all, she was 14 now! That sounded _a lot_ more intimidating than 13 at least. Just another small way to assert power over her five little flockmates for a little while longer.

At least until Fang turned 14.

Then it would lose all the novelty. And she'd completely lose it all when Iggy turned 14 too. But oh well. She still had 4 months of a tiny power advantage.

She took a moment before walking back over to fridge to grab something out of it. She was going for the chocolate syrup. No birthday was perfect without chocolate syrup, right?

She reached the fridge and grabbed the bottle, turning around after shutting it close, but she was faced with a warm front instead of thin air.

Severely startled and completely unexpected, she almost yelped, only to realize the wall she had been faced with was just Fang standing there in front of her.

He seemed to be doing that a lot more lately and it _pissed her off_. Jeez, couldn't he make _noise_ when he moved? It was goddamned heart-stopping. She was sure he'd eventually grow the power to turn invisible or something one of these days. It was really, incredibly, annoying, and he didn't used to do it before.

She looked up to him agitatedly after being startled.

"What?" she asked, sounding peeved, especially so for it being her birthday.

Fang stared down at her, from his looming height above her (so much for being 14—he was still taller), and observed her calculately for a second. That annoyed her even more for some reason.

For some reason _everything _he did these days annoyed her, but she couldn't quite place why.

Maybe it was because of all they did at night—he would pleasure her with his fingers, roughly, gently, however which way she liked it (which was usually roughly), and then stare at her in the daytime.

It really disturbed her this way.

Not that she didn't enjoy his company at night, however. That was absolutely not the case.

It was a lot better when he did it than when she tried to do it by herself of course. She knew _he_ did it by himself all the time (afterall, she wasn't willing to help.. at least not after she found out _why_ he _had_ to relieve himself). But there was a certain.. _spark_ when he helped and did it for her.

It felt different. Better. She liked it when he was rough with her. It felt different than when she was rough with herself.

She didn't like it when he got close to her though. Not in the way where he'd rub his cheek against hers. Or touch her a certain way where she was not supposed be caressed—like rubbing her abs softly; that wasn't right. Just get to the point, right? Just get to the orgasm. The whole belly-rubbing, elbow softening, close stuff.. it made her squirmish and squealish.

She didn't like it. Just get to the point. Right?

Besides.. all that.. _other_ stuff, was just meant to turn him on, right? And that was not right. Their relationship was not about that.

She did not want to breed him into a freakin sexist _pig_. She did not want to indulge him in his desires.

She thought they had a good understanding of their nights. What they did.

It was not about being a sexist pig, it was about, well, orgasm.

He would do it so good, too. It would make her simply unravel.

She even felt quite bad on the weeks where she'd be having her period and he couldn't do it. Though, that wasn't to say that they don't do it while on her period.

But they simply couldn't do it on the nights where she'd have heavy flows, aka the first few nights. Though they had tried before, it just got too messy and wet, and honestly, it wasn't as enjoyable those nights either. They could do it on the later days of the week though, where the blood was less.

She knew she liked it. She craved it. She didn't know much about him, except that he wanted to get closer and that she wouldn't let him. But she knew that he came back every night to be with her, and she enjoyed it, so she continued to revel in the glory of their relationship at night. And enjoyed the orgasms of course.

Though she hated this whole puberty and sex thing, and certainly surely did not understand any of it first, she was now completely, utterly _thrilled_ and _happy_ she had found out about it.

Afterall, otherwise, she would not be able to feel _that_ at night, could she?

He would do it _so _roughly sometimes. Almost like he was angry and forceful and taking it out on shoving his fingers into her womb as hard and as fast as he could. But she didn't mind. Even if he _was_ getting his frustrations out on his ministrations, at least she felt good while he did it. She even sort of encouraged all his bad feelings to come out at night, if just so that it will motivate him to act that fierce on her again.

Her knees would be up close and tight enough to be touching her collarbones lightly, and the balls of her feet would be below the rims of her buttocks on either side. She'd be sitting close together within herself, her breasts squeezed to be pushing tightly against her pulled up thighs and her body leaning gently on the base of her butt, her feet and legs spread wide apart. Like a ball, but her opening open and clear wide to Fang, who would be thrusting his fingers into her deeply, and looking at her down into face soundly as she'd heave.

His gazes disturbed her, but she could look past them in the thrill of the moment. As long as he was _giving_ her that thrill.

He would pull in and out of her harshly and fiercely until she'd be crying with the efforts, and pleasure, and the pain. The pain and pleasure would wrack through her body fiercely and the sheer multitude of all those feelings and conflicting emotions would just make her entire body quiver in desperation and unadultered confusion.

She didn't usually cry, but.. the sheer _passion_ of those feelings and the desperate _need_ of release would cause her to. She would be so overwhelmed by all those things sometimes, that she just wouldn't be able to help it. Those nights were the best, however. When it got intense enough to cry. To want it so much that she'd come to tears. Those nights were the _best_.

One time, he was particularly intense, and her passion and pleasure and pain had led her to lose control completely; she had spilled all over her sheets. She had been so overcome by the emotions that she had released her thick nitrogenous urine all over the thin, sweat-coated bedsheets as his fingers continued to thrust in and out of her. It was _that_ intense.

She had been crying, _sobbing, _as his fingers wreaked havoc inside her.. and she just couldn't reach.. _it. _She just couldn't control the intensity.. it was just too much.. so she had peed all over him as she felt herself flush _so close_ to orgasm and it was just too much and he just didn't care—he kept on pulling his fingers in and out, even as wide, gargantuan spurts of yellow and stink-filled fluid fell from the small and tiny nub that he saw as her bladder. He had even reached down with his other hand and captured her bladder between his two fingers to slowly and gently milk it out of all its urine. It had turned her on, and the feeling of the two extra fingers on her vagina, one hand pushing into her and gently bringing her to orgasm, while the other slowly and gently coaxing more urine out of her urethra. His ministrations on her nether regions had pushed her over the edge.

She had cried, sighed in desperation, as she had finally released, and his fingers slowly slowed down after making sure she had successfully ridden her orgasm out his fingers. He stopped and slowed down after he was completely sure she had been spent and done.

She had found herself on the bedsheets, wet and sticky, her urine and a bunch of her cum fluid surrounding her. A white, transparent string of thinning cum led from her insides to Fang's two fingers, which were now at least two feet away from her vagina. They stared at the long string incredulously, how they were connected.

Staring at that, she had felt disgusting, cold, and knowing that she was lying in all that as well as piss had made her feel disgusting, but she felt _so_ satisfied, that it was okay.

She wasn't even unokay that she had peed all over herself in release, because he accepted it, and didn't turn away from her as she squirted all over him; his shirt, his pants, and his hands, which were all stained with pee now, of course.

But it had been worth it.

It had felt so good.

So thats what she and Fang had been through.

They had seen eachother at her ultimate worst—overcome, and _wrought_ with complete, utter, _fierce_ desire, even enough to piss. And he.. _he_ was the one who had got her that way. He was the one who had led her there. And held her there.

And slowly milked her vagina out of all it's urine.

That was how close their relationship was. But it was not a _close_ one.

So when he had hovered over her in the front of the fridge and leaned down into her, trying to get near to her, she had automatically and immediately shirked away. _That_ was not their relationship.

But he had reached down anyway, even with all her tenseness and all the risks of potential rejection.

He had tried to kiss her. On the lips.

Like the way he'd seen the people in the movies do it, on tv. Like those starcrossed lovers on tv, and on those channels which and everybody used to just flip past, before he had reached puberty and just tried to stare at it and figure out for once _why_ they did it.

Like one of those kisses, thats how he tried to do it.

He had only kissed once before afterall, and that was with Brigid. A girl he'd met down in town ages ago. Sort of a slut, a whore, but how he'd lost his virginity and how he'd learned about everything he needed to know prior to checking out the library.

So he tried to kiss her. Why? Because he need to let her know.. to _show_.. how much he cared about her. Because it was her birthday and he loved her and hated their relationship at night as much as he loved it.

Because he wanted to kiss _her_.

For ages, he'd wanted to.

At first he hadn't really gotten it. He had kissed her on the forehead before going to sleep. Had kissed her on the side of her cheek when she had been crying and overwhelmed and tired and scared after she'd gotten her period.

He'd _always _had those incredible urges to do things like that. But he'd never really understood why, nor did he ever feel fully sure of himself after indulging in those weird, random, sudden desires.

But now he finally understood. Kissing her on the forehead was not what he had truly wanted to do. He had been _half_-indulging in his desires. It was a simple action of a minconstrued conception of what he really wanted. What he _really_ wanted, was to kiss her on the lips.

And that was forgetting all that they did at night. If it was his choice, he'd just stop at this point, only because he was sick of it.

But he didn't stop going to her room at night, because she knew she'd hate him for it if he did. It was one of those things he just couldn't stop, only because they didn't speak at night while it occurred.

He was sick of that, really. That messed up, useful relationship, where he could see his desires, and she could feel through her own conflicted, messed up teenaged ones, but it really didn't do anything for him except make him angry. How he couldn't touch her. All it did was did was make him frustrated.

Not sexually of course. He didn't _need_, desire, or crave sex. If he did, he could just handle that himself.

He didn't crave sex, not now, at least. Not in his entire general situation with Max.

He just craved a kiss.

A simple, kiss.

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted more. To _show_ her more.

He lowered his lips down to her own and placed them against his and pressed his against hers thoroughly. To see if she'd get what he meant.

Muffled against his chapped, and so characteristically _Fang_-like lips, she shoved him away by the tight corners of his shoulders. She had resisted from the first nanosecond that he had touched them. Rudely.

"What are you _doing?_" she said after she had finally got him off. He looked down at her. She sounded enraged. Furious. Angry. Mad. She had pushed him away roughly.

She definitely had not liked it.

The thought made his heart sink, but he could bear through with it, and his facial expression didn't change. He stared through the silent moment with her apathetically. Like it was normal. Casual. Okay. Pretending.

He didn't know for sure if he regretted what he'd done just right then, but he knew one thing: he had wanted to do it.

Maybe just to see her reaction.

But he didn't quite know whether or not to hate himself for it.

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**A/N:**

**What do you guys think? D: Have I lost my touch? Should I go back to abandoning this story? D:  
**


	30. Show You

_Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?_

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**Chapter 30: Show**

A shallow groan slowly echoed through the empty room as he sunk into her pink, willowed, worn out, flesh.

He sunk into her slowly, but quickly started.

In-out, in-out, In... Out.

In.

Out.

He groaned into her skin. _Do you like this? _He wanted to ask her.

She was breathless below his looming form.

In, out. In,

Out.

_Fuck me._ She seemed to say.

He brought her hand up to fondle, cup and hand one of her breasts.

She squirmed and moaned in response. He was taken aback by her receptiveness to him.

"_What does it feel like?" she had asked him. _

"_..." Fang paused. And then he turned to her fully, setting a dark gaze immediately onto her hesitant, curious, hazel ones. To make sure her eyes would have quick access to survey the exact bulge she was questioning right now. "Even _better," _he responded. _

He hadn't coerced her; in his mind. She had asked him the question first. She had asked what it would feel like... with not fingers, but... with...

She had recalled that night, when the two had been laying on Iggy's bed, when she had first gotten her period. His hands had slipped under, touching and caressing her for the first time. His breath had whispered into her ear and fell unto her neck.

"_Thats..." Fang said, his fingers probing her vagina carefully, "where my penis is supposed to go." _Then, he touched her clitoris.

_His_ penis. Where only _his _was supposed to go. She had remembered what he had said that day.

And ever since he had started bringing her to the soft, ecstatic, often volatile, throes of pleasure at night with his soft, sinewy, smooth fingers... She had always wondered.

"_Even _better," _he had responded to her. _

He continued to thrust into her, his pace moderate, slowly concentrating on bringing her to pleasure while relishing in the feeling of his own hormonal desires being fulfilled.

She moaned lowly from below him. Her sweet breaths wathed across his skin. Her soft groans and low whimpers reached his ears, consistently, with a savored frequency, as he determinedly pushed into the girl lying below him.

Treasuring the sounds coming from her throat, he realized... he loved and cherished her.

"Mmphgffg." He came, and crushed her body tight against his. Her breaths were loud, gasping, above his shoulder as he pushed his face into the pillow beside her head.

Catching control of his breaths rather quickly, his arms still wrapped around her form, he turned his head to her.

"Did you feel it?" his low voice rasped out, looking at her. Max was lying there, looking speechless.

After a moment, she nodded wordlessly, her eyes still looking at the ceiling. Her chest was still heaving.

_Did you feel my fluid, emptying into you and only you? _He had asked her without saying.

Wordlessly, she had nodded affirmation.

"Thats how _much _I feel for you," he finally said after a long while of lying there with her. Then, he got up, released his hold around her body, (pulling out of her lest his penis begin to harden once again), and slowly began to dress.

He left her room in silence, her body unclothed and lying ontop of stained sheets. He left her there to think about what they had just done; what he had just shown her.

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**A/N: ****This is a short chapter, but its to test the waters with my readers to see if I should continue. Your feedback is IMPERATIVE to the continuation of the story! **

**My question to you guys: What is your interpretation of what happened in this chapter?**


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